The Watcher
by amazonherb
Summary: AU.Jack/OC's centric. Earth 1869, His nightmares are escaping & he cant stay dead. Who's watching him? What has he to loose? What is the Key? will end up M rated deals with addiction. contains swearing.
1. Chapter 1 Rain

The Watchers

Chapter 1

**Summary: AU. Jack before TW. Before the Turn of the 20****th**** Century. How did he cope with being abandoned and unable to stay dead, And what of the strange person watching his movements. How low can he go before he realises why he's here. Events hinted at in White noise. Please note several sessions of bad language!**

**Characters: Captain Jack. Jones brothers, Cornelia, (oc's)**

**Disclaimer: It's only in my imagination. *big sigh***

**Will get M rated before the end so if you like please tag as it gets flaming hard to find after!… Please feed me reviews! **

**Thank you Anglekitty for encouraging me and reading it through.**

Night wrapped its cloak around the harbour, the tall ships bobbed gently in the wind. The rain had stopped all but the seasoned traveller from venturing out from the warmth of the hostels. The watcher stood on the rooftop gazing out to the sea, before turning and huddling closer to the chimney for warmth. The heavy coat was pulled tighter so that no rain could seep down the collar to the only dry spot left.

Pale blue eyes peered out from a sun darkened face. Blond hair was plastered to the head. The rain had no mercy for the fashionable.

_Should have worn a hat_

The steady clip clop of a late night horse-drawn carriage echoed through the almost vacant street. Not even the whores were out tonight.

The watcher had sat up here for several days, only venturing down to get food when the quarry was too drunk to move from the room he had hired. His time was almost up. The watcher could feel it in the bone. Gazing out to sea again the watcher sighed

_I remember a time in the future, when this city was so very old, you could never see as many stars as now._

Each tiny pin- prick of light was a Sun, each sun had a ring of planets. Over 50% of these were inhabited and over 90% of those had already reached out to other planets. Of course looking back into the stars was looking back in to time it's self. The watcher was aware that it took light only a second to travel nearly 300 thousand kilometres. Some of those planets were hundreds of light years away. The watcher had been to nearly all of the 'civilised' planets to collect the Bounties. Nearly 700 of them, of those 690 had been brought in alive, as requested. The other 10 had died in transit, 6 with a smile on their faces, and the other 4 had been annoying, but she'd persisted. Those four had eventually killed themselves. They were too frightened to go to Holding. This was to be the first Kill only bounty.

This was the start of one of the contracts on the quarry. The Highers wanted all the Time Agents back. They'd realised they had had made a mistake in operating the agency. Someone was trying to bring it down from the past. This was to be the fourth agent. One had disappeared completely. Last know whereabouts was Earth. This time period apparently. Another hunter reported her gone, imploded in a glittering sea of blue lights. The other two had been all too willing to be sent back to the Highers for 'rehabilitation'. They'd seen too much and done too much.

This one was different. He'd got away from the government twice. Shagged his way out of the prisons. The prison governor was not happy about that. The killing contract was from the Governor of Holding. The governor's wife, daughter and both sons had begged him not to issue the contract, but the deed had been done, couldn't be rescinded.

The watcher stood to stretch long legs. Black jeans hugged in the right places, showing off muscular legs. Knives were strapped round the thighs in easy reaching distance. Each of the healed boots concealed a short-barrelled pistol, and additional throwing knife. The watcher had decided that it would be more fun to play with the weapons of the day, than raise questions from the inquisitive locals at burn marks from the Intaci weapons that had been favoured of late.

The heavy duster coat was pulled even tighter to keep out the rain and cold.

Bloody planet!

In the watchers retina a message flashed up.

WELL? TIME IS PASSING HE SHOULD BE DEAD BY NOW – DIMBLE

_Shit!_

The watcher swore in response to the message and the fact that the only dry spot was now a rapidly growing wet spot down the spine, as water had seeped through.

Concentrating the watcher returned the message:

PAITENCE DUMBLE, I'M FINALLY IN THE RIGHT TIME-LINE. YOUR INFORMATION WAS WRONG. YOU OWE ME.

Almost immediately a response was sent.

DIMBLE! AND THAT'S NOT MY PROBLEM.

The watcher snorted

OH IT WILL BE, I PROMISE. BY THE WAY, YOUR EX WANTS YOUR BALLS ON A PLATE, PREFERABLY WITH OUT THE REST OF YOU ATTACHED. PROFESSIONALLY I CAN'T TAKE ON ANOTHER JOB SO RECOMMENDED HART. YOU'LL LIKE HIM. A LITTLE INTENSE BUT NICE-ISH.

Nothing came back. The watcher smiled, Dimble was a renowned cheat and always tried to wriggle out of contract hits. John enjoyed himself too much in his work to allow that. The watcher chuckled and returned to the task in hand.

The rain had now become a last ditch downpour. Gutters flooded and drainpipes overflowed. A door opened at the hostelry that was visible from the watchers hiding place. Yellow orange light spilled out on to the empty street. A man was roughly ejected from the building.

"You Bastard! Don't you dare return here again. I won't have it here! This is a respectable place! Get your beer somewhere else and do your deals elsewhere!"

In the lamplight the watcher could see a small woman, hands on hips giving the ejected man holy hell. Beside her two muscular men stood waiting for their cue to pounce. The ejected man rose unsteadily and staggered round taking his bearings, till he faced her, swaying drunkenly

"Madam, your little den of iniquity is nothing but third class, and cannot cope with me. Your 'ladies' are little more than pox-ridden whores but your boys! Whoa! Hold me back!" he turned to stagger off but changed his mind.

"Without me you'll go down where you belong, and frankly your beer tastes of horse piss"

The watcher had smiled through the exchange, her informant was right, he was a drunkard, and ripe for the picking. Slowly she followed the drunk. At this height it was easy. The buildings were huddled together as in solidarity, fearful of what may come from the bay. Roofs were joined where possible, or it was simple easy leaps to cross a street. This backwater little planet on the edge of the Milky Way constantly surprised her. She had expected the humans to be little more that savages. In the late 19th century they had not yet discovered flight, so how could they expect to travel the stars in the mid 21st. She had been told that the 21st Century was when everything changed for this little planet. It found its wings and discovered it could soar… This place was to become leader in the Higher Universal Government and would stay there for millennia. Humans would dominate the stars. They would be accused of watering down the races, as they would befriend and mate with anything and anyone. But still they survived.

The buildings were getting further apart, now would be a good time to get on the ground. The watcher deftly leapt the single storey and landed quietly at least 100 paces behind the drunk.

_At least the rain has now stopped_

She had to step back into shadow as the drunk stopped dead in his tracks and looked behind him. The moon came out from behind a cloud and lit the area.

_I can see his charisma and how he managed to get away. He is rather handsome, a little too pretty though._

The drunk looked up at the moon, and fell to his knees. Sobbing he placed his head in his hands. After a moment he regained his composure, lifted his head and bellowed at the moon.

"Why me? Why did you abandon me? What did you do to me?"

But the moon didn't answer. In her experience the man in the moon never did.

3


	2. Chapter 2 The lesson

**Summary: AU. Jack before TW. Before the Turn of the 20****th**** Century. How did he cope with being abandoned and unable to stay dead, And what of the strange person watching his movements. How low can he go before he realises why he's here. Events hinted at in White noise. ****Please note several sessions of bad language!**

**Characters: Captain Jack. Jones brothers, Cornelia, (oc's)**

**Disclaimer: It's only in my imagination. *big sigh***

**Will get M rated before the end so if you like please tag as it gets flaming hard to find after!… Please feed me reviews! **

**Thank you Anglekitty for encouraging me and reading it through, and to old professerherb for listening to mad ideas. **

_Ellis Island 1896:_

The Watcher heard the heavy footsteps come out of the darkness before the drunk did. She was disappointed; with his training he should have heard them a long time ago. Perhaps he was too far-gone in drink to hear anything but his own melancholy thoughts. She considered his situation; this was going to be either interesting or a complete slaughter.

She stepped further back into the shadows, becoming nothing more than a shadow herself. The owners of the footsteps passed her.

_Ah it's those two. The Jones brothers. This will be good._

The Jones brothers were petty thieves and bullies. Each built like brick outhouses. Gods alone knew what their mother fed them on. Jacob was the most vicious of the pair. An old scar going from his ear to his chin, gave a menacing air. Cropped hair matched the stubble he wore. David was the younger of the two; he was only there for the muscle. This was a man who had muscles in his spit, but he let Jacob do the thinking for him. Many brain cells did not encumber him, but he was loyal to a fault. The deep heavy voice of David could be heard over their footsteps.

"That's 'im. That's the one Ma wants taught a lesson"

"We'll do more than that. He's brought Ma's place into disrepute. 'The beer tastes of Horse piss!' Didn't stop him from drinking most of it" Jacob growled

"Yeah… but thinking abut it Jacob, it really does taste of piss. Ow!" Jacob had punched David in retaliation.

They bore down on the drunk. He finally heard their footsteps through the comforting blanket of an alcoholic stupor. He rose unsteadily and turned to face them, his arms outstretched in a welcoming gesture.

"Well if it isn't my favourite boys? What can I do for you?"

The men didn't stop running and cannoned into him, knocking him off his feet.

"Oops a daisy, you seemed to have fallen over mate, let me help you up"

David grabbed a handful of the drunk's hair and yanked him upwards to his feet.

The drunk protested noisily at the rough handling.

"Hold him David" ordered Jacob.

The drunk smiled a lopsided smile, until Jacob's clenched fist connected with his stomach muscles. Unable to curl up the drunk lifted his legs trying to protect himself, so he was eventually hanging from David's arms.

The watcher stood there, still hidden by the shadows, with a vague interest. She watched the drunk regain some sense of self-preservation as he lashed out with his feet at Jacob, but was far too drunk to connect with anything but air. Blow after blow rained down on the drunk. He weakly raised his first to protect himself. Then started thrashing around, trying to dodge the blows. A lucky strike from him managed to get David to drop him to the floor. Blood poured from the drunk. He now sported a split lip and he was breathing heavily, the watcher assumed from several broken ribs.

The watcher caught a glimpse of a short silver blade in the moonlight being held against the drunk's neck.

"Oh please make my evening" the drunk begged.

_That's my cue_

The watcher delicately stepped from the shadows. The metal tipped heals made slight clicking sounds on the cobbles, the long corseted coat swished behind her. The brothers took no notice, until the louder click of hammers being pulled back on the pistols warned them of a visitor to their little party.

They turned to face her. Two short-barrelled pistols were aimed straight at their heads.

"Good evening gentlemen. I would appreciate it if you would please step aside and leave the poor gentleman alone"

Jacob laughed ungraciously, "That's no gentleman. He's a drunk, a thief and a con"

"Nevertheless, that quarry is mine. Skit!" she replied

She waved the pistols at the two men, motioning them to move away.

"No fear Miss we saw 'im first. His arse is ours." David insisted

"Knowing this gentleman he would gladly give you his arse, but not in the way you intend. Move!" She stressed the final word.

Jacob launched himself at her intending damage. She stepped back and lowered one of the guns into his stomach. Stopping him in mid launch.

"Don't move, don't breath, don't even think" she warned.

"Do you like stories David?" she asked, David nodded slowly

"Let me tell you a true story, one of the future.…your future Jacob. I can see the court reports about your loyal little brother, hauled before the justice, chains round his feet, noose round his neck. Charged with the murder of his older brother. Your Ma's weeping in the seats. The Justice sat in session. The noose tightens, and then…"

"You talk too much Miss" Hissed Jacob.

"Sorry. It's a fault. Remember. My finger, my trigger, my pistol, Your stomach. You'll survive the bullet, but not the infection. Slow painful death from Blood poisoning, as your stomach acid weeps into your body. It eats into your guts, turns them in on you. You feel as though you have a thousands rats in there all desperate for a piece of you. "

She leaned forward and whispered into Jacobs face, He could smell the sweet smell of mint on her breath. Her perfume was gentle, alluring.

"Move" she requested gently.

He stepped back slowly. Suddenly he lashed out at her. She was no longer there,

David stood open mouthed, his hand on the blade against the drunk's neck. He'd seen Jacob fight before, but he'd never fought a woman and never like this. Jacob was a street fighter. The dirtier the better was his motto. He had slipped a duster over his knuckles intending to take out the beautiful face. But wherever he hit, kicked or lashed the woman parried, turned, and landed gracefully.

The silence was deafening after the shot rang out. Jacob crumpled to the floor. Agony etched on his face. His hands clutched his abdomen. David pushed the drunk away, who fell to the ground, clawing at his neck.

"Jacob!" Cried David, tears welling in his eyes. The watcher turned to him and passed him the pistol.

"Hold these" she insisted

David took them and with shaking hands and turned them on her "If.. If he dies so do you" he sniffed. She ignored him, and instead pulled at Jacobs's shirt exposing the wound.

"He'll live… for now. Don't do that dear; my weapons don't take kindly to being pointed at me. They tend to backfire. You're not a killer. Take my advice, leave town, move to the west coast. Don't stay here, otherwise the rats will take you down with them too."

The watcher spoke gently to the big man as she took the pistols off then watched as David helped his brother to his feet.

"Go Home" she told them

They stood looking at her. She sighed and raised the guns again.

"GO!"

She watched them hobble down the street, the big man bending down to give his brother the support he needed. Then turned towards the drunk on the floor. She heard the spiteful voice of Jacob rise back through the empty streets towards her.

"Too bad he won't live."

"Shit!" She strode over to the prone man lying there. Blood from the wound in his neck mingled with the rainwater puddle in the middle of the street.

She cursed wildly into the wind. She knew worse curses in all 53 non-human languages, even how to curse politely, but nothing made her feel better than saying the basest of curses known. Even bacteria on the furthest moons in the universe would know these words.

She crouched beside the body as wild eyes stared at her, the final ebb of life drained away. Those once beautiful eyes stared unseeing into the cloudless sky.

Uncaring she looked at him.

Oh well, that's no.3

She stared for a moment then concentrated, to send a message to both her employers.

DIMBLE. QUARRY DEAD, CONTRACT COMPLETE

Then another

LORD VELON, FORTH TIME AGENT TERMINATED. PROOF ATTACHED

Almost immediately two messages returned

CREDITS IN ACCOUNT AS AGREED. DO NOT CONTACT AGAIN – DIMBLE

And

IMAGE ACCEPTED AS PROOF. NO MATTER IF DEAD or ALIVE. 5 MILL CREDITS PLACED IN OFF WORLD ACCOUNT. NEXT AGENT IS STEELE. LAST KNOWN WHEREABOUTS IS EARTH, FRANCE, LATE 1890'S EARLY 1900'S. 4 MILL CREDITS FOR ALIVE ONLY. 0 CREDITS FOR DEAD. DON'T GET CARRIED AWAY. VELON

The watcher nodded to her self. She preferred to bring people in alive. It was a little more like hunting. She'd seen enough death on her home world. So, Steele was here, Earth, France, it was also the last place she'd heard her father was.

She stood, leaving the body of the drunk in the street; it would be something for the local law enforcement to get excited about in the morning. As the last of her footsteps echoed away, a blue glow enveloped the body, settling on him, and then faded away. She missed the gasp for breath as the once dead man returned to life and gingerly fingered his neck. He sat up, and stared at the moon. The man stood and continued his journey towards the docks, as sober as the day he was born, pausing only to stare up towards the sky.

"What the hell did you do to me?" He asked the moon again.

Once again the moon refused to speak.


	3. Chapter 3 The Surprise

**Summary: AU. Jack before TW. Before the Turn of the 20****th**** Century. How did he cope with being abandoned and unable to stay dead, And what of the strange person watching his movements. How low can he go before he realises why he's here. **

**Please note several sessions of bad language!**

**Characters: Captain Jack. Cornelia, Steele, (oc's)**

**Disclaimer: It's only in my imagination. *big sigh***

**Will get M rated before the end so if you like please tag as it gets flaming hard to find after!… Please feed me reviews! **

**Thank you Anglekitty and emelye for encouraging me and reading it through**

**

* * *

THE SURPRISE**

_France 1897 – Early September_

She'd made it to France as per instructions, various enquiries had lead her to dead ends until finally she'd received a message to be in the village 15 clicks from Tarascon by midnight

_Bloody Planet!_

The watcher once again was huddled up, trying to keep the rain from dribbling down the collar of the jacket.

_Why here? What does he know?_

She'd received a message to meet here for more information on Steele.

She'd never met Steele, only heard of him, usually from the ragged remains of his conquests. She wondered what had happened to make this agent turn rogue. The once warm man, who loved to laugh, had turned cold overnight.

_Bloody Planet! _she repeated to herself.

_Why does it have to be at night, why not somewhere warm and dry? Even a pub would be good_. Despite her moaning she knew the real reason. She wasn't a mingling type of person. She tended to attract attention, usually the wrong kind.

She watched a solitary passenger train passed by. Steam billowed from its funnel leaving a dusty greasy film of dirt over everything it passed. She continued to wait. The now abandoned station was in the middle of nowhere, in the middle of France. The village close by was pretty enough. She'd only ever seen it at night. The station was a simple two platform affair. The signal clanked, its arm lowered to indicate danger. She sighed this planet was getting to her it did nothing but bloody rain. It was supposed to be summer for the gods sake.

_This one then a break. See if I can find some where on this backwater hole that is warm_ she promised herself. She stood and paced the length of the platform. Her patience had deserted her tonight. She stood at the edge of the platform and looked down the line. A clank and laboured mechanical noise told her the points had changed again. She looked up the line, hoping for the light of another approaching train, to at least ease the boredom.

In the distant fields the sharp bark of a fox could be heard. Its mate returned the call. Every sound was twanging her nerves.

_Bloody Planet!_ Impatiently she looked up the line.

"It's no good that was the last train for a few hours" A mans voice cut through the darkness. Her eyes searched the surroundings looking for a hint of a figure, the owner of the voice, but could see nothing. She concentrated.

_Thank the gods for mods_ as she switched her vision to night attack

Immediately several pairs of eyes could bee seen. Each one belonged to various nocturnal animals. Closer a fox barked again, this time an owl screeched a reply. She scanned the area again, this time she saw him. Like her he was dress completely in various shades of black, rendering him invisible to the casual eye. He stood between the rails and looked up at her as she stood waiting on the platform. A dangerous position at most times, even more so with her there. She concentrated again, her vision returned to normal.

"Well?" He asked

"Aren't you going to help an old man up?" He held out his hand for her to pull him to the safety of the platform. She reached out and grabbed him by the wrist. As they made contact, they both gasped out loud. Unintentionally she had reached into his mind, seen the depravity that had turned him… His partner Roo hadn't deserved that.

"Well I'm honoured" he finally said,

"At least they had the courtesy to send you and not that other monster, Hart."

"I take it your Steele then"

The man nodded. She smiled for the first time that night.

"I could be trusted to bring you back alive, he wants revenge; you did trap him in that time loop, with another agent he despised."

"Only for two weeks"

"Five years for them – nasty thing to do"

"They were annoying me" Steele's smiled spread slowly across his face as he remembered.

"How many have you killed?" he asked her out of the blue. She stared at him

"That's a rude question" she replied

"I've become a rude person"

"In that case – none" Steele snorted his disbelief

"And what of the 10 that you didn't take back alive?"

"4 Suicides, the other 6 were … lets say overwhelmed"

"Overwhelmed?" he repeated

"They died happier then they had been in a long time, satisfied too. Leave it there"

Steele shook his head.

"The rest you brought back mostly alive, what happened to them? How many did you think survived the 'reconditioning'?

His perfect voice started to grate on her.

"When did you become the voice of my conscience" she asked

With a speed that startled her he grabbed her wrist and dragged her closer to him. He started to say something before his eyes fleetingly glazed over. She realised he was looking into her future. He released her just as quick,

"Boy! You are going to get a surprise!" his smile had all the warmth of a crocodile.

She smiled, hearing her mentor's advice '_Girl, you were born with knees, use them wisely',_ she raised her knee and planted it firmly in his balls.

"Not as good as yours" she spat

He laughed hoarsely once he'd finished rolling around on the floor. He eventually managed to stand.

The fight that ensued was bitter and matched evenly. Blades and fists mixed easily. There was no form and no rules. Both had experience in street fighting, it was down to who could simply be the dirtiest fighter. Blades scraped down each other, as together they swirled, and dodged each others fist strikes and leapt up of the way of sudden jabs. Her cheek had been scratched when she hadn't moved far enough back to escape the lethal swish of his short blade.

She stumbled backwards, just keeping her footing as he advanced, coolly attacking, each movement calculated. He reached forward, the flat of his blade connected with her sword arm. She yelped more in shock than pain. The other arm of her coat had been shredded as in one flowing movement he'd reached over with one blade and returned with the other.

He'd kept his ambidexterity to himself, regularly he changed hands, catching her off guard, a short stabbing pain in the top of her leg muscle had proved to be the shorter of the blades. In another easy movement, he snapped his Daigont sword and the short blade together. The process transformed the whole sword into a curved blade, the hilt split into three minor blades designed to trap any blade that ended up near the hilt.

They separated, each panting. She looked at him, for all her wounds, she had managed to prick him several times. A scar down his nose joined the one going across his forehead in a ridiculous T. He'd discarded his coat after getting it tangled in the larger Daigont blade. Blood had started to seep through his shirt in various places. His left eye was partially closed where she'd managed to get close and head-but him. Trying to catch their breath, they eyed each other wearily.

"You're bloody good Steele" she said

"I have two advantages" he admitted

_Fuck! Telepath!_

He nodded.

"Also you need me alive"

She knew then that she needed to clear her head, not think at all, and react only. He couldn't know her mind, or anticipate her next move if she didn't know it herself. Steele had already been in her mind. She didn't want him there again. Using the Sigma ion technique used in the far reaches of the universe she cleared her head of everything. The only thing that remained there was the will to survive. She'd have to wing it.

The steel of the blade made an arc as he swung it towards her, its movement catching the light. The clang echoed around the abandoned station. His onslaught was intense, unforgiving and dangerous. Taking on a cool head and the training received at her mentor's home planet she gained ground. Slowly she wore him down. She reached forward, the tip of her blade scored across his chest as he was unable to lean back far enough with out falling off the platform. A fresh trickle of blood seeped slowly through the already stained shirt.

"Enough girl" he taunted

"I've warmed you up nicely now lets really fight."

The onslaught was terrible, blades sang out with each clash. He fought her on two levels, physically and mentally. Images were thrown against her mind. At first random, then as each stoke became more and more intense, the images become more horrific, twisted broken bodies, planets ravaged by war and disease. Each of these she knew were a consequence of the Highers desire to bring peace.

The government had soon learned that in order to bring peace they needed to prepare for war, as many of the outer systems had many warring factions, each vying for top dog. The higher government had been lucky so for, not one of these factions had been prepared to stand together, and fight together.

He tried then to push into her mind. But the walls were strong. He'd never been to the Sigma quanta, did not know their training, their peace. A religious order was never a place for war- or so the government believed. Failing at that, he intensified the physical attack. He brought his sword down on her unarmed raised forearm, the intention to sever it. But nothing happened.

She'd been able to reach into his own conscience, through the open door he'd left in her mind, and seen the forthcoming action.

Again and again he struck out at her, first fist then sword, his fist connected with her more than his sword, but it was here he made his mistake; his overconfidence pushed him too far. She made a false strike, which he parried easily but left himself open.

Too late he realised it, but by then his sword was in her hand and in the other hand she was pointing an Intaci laser at his head.

"Don't move, don't even think about moving. This is new, a little trigger happy, and I don't want to waste it on you" She panted roughly.

"I'm getting too old for this." He panted too. "Half an hour and I'm as out of breath as a D'shar on a planet full of virgins. I'm going back to the Holding aren't I?" he asked sighing. She nodded, concentrating, catching her breath.

LORD VELON – STEELE CAPTURED PREPARED FOR TRANSIT, WAITING CO-ORDS AND FURTHER INSTRUCTIONS

Instantly the reply returned

CO-ORDS IN STRAP ACCESSES NO 120705 DELTA V. PHIRE IS NEXT – WHEREABOUTS UNKNOWN – WARNING HART ON WARPATH. VELON

She swore under her breath, Hart was the last person she wanted to meet.

She grabbed Steele's arm to expose the wrist strap so she could punch in the delta co-ordinates.

"Tough luck on being in Hart's bad book. What did you do to him?" he asked

"Let him have Dimble that's all" It was then she realised her mistake. Dimble would have told Hart about the terminal contract on the time agent he'd been trapped with. No wonder he was pissed with her, he really wanted that one.

Behind them the signal clanged, the semaphore arm moved indicating clear, in the distance she could hear the whoosh as steam released from the funnel of the oncoming train. Steele looked at her. The train was getting closer, with a practiced ease he stepped off the platform into the oncoming train, dragging her with him. She fell awkwardly, crying out instinctively. As she fell, the wrist strap kicked in and Steele disappeared in an upward beam of light his last words being "You cannot take Phire"

The train bore down on her as she scrambled to get out of the way. At the last minute she felt strong arms grab her and pull her to the safety of the platform. The train thundered by, whistling angrily.

She looked at her rescuer. His mismatched clothing was torn and tattered, but of the highest quality. The man wrapped his arms around himself as he rocked back and forth on the balls of his feet. His head was bowed staring at the floor. His lank hair draped down covering his face. Around him there was a rank smell, she leant forward slightly and sniffed. The smell was him. He stank, personal hygiene was obviously not on his list of things to learn, or he was allergic to soap. She recognised the state of the man at once; an addict had rescued her. He must have been on his way to his next fix, yet something remained of him to save a complete stranger. When he spoke his voice was rough.

"I watched you. You're good with the blades. One of the best I imagine."

"Thank you, Thank you for…" He cut her off

"That was Steele?"

The question surprised her.

"Yes" she nodded looking intently at him. The man snorted.

"Good, I never liked him. Too far up his own backside"

The addict lifted his head to look at her. His nervous energy was hardly being contained. He wiped his nose on his sleeve. Blood shot eyes stared through her.

Her mouth dropped open in shock.

"You're dead" she finally managed to get the words out. "I saw it happen, I left you there, called it in. collected the" he interrupted her with another snort.

"Yeah, well That's a different story…!" and with that simple rebuff, the man she knew she'd seen killed in the alley back in the Americas, ran down the platform jumped onto the rails and disappeared into the night.

She stared watching him disappear down the track. After a moment she looked skyward to the moon. But the moon as usual shone brightly saying nothing.


	4. Chapter 4 The Original Sin?

**Characters: Captain Jack. Cornelia, Steele(OC's)**

**Disclaimer: It's only in my imagination. *big sigh***

**Will get M rated before the end so if you like please tag as it gets flaming hard to find after!… Please feed me reviews! **

**Thank you Anglekitty, Emelye14283 for encouraging me and reading it through.**

**Note: Dreams & Memories in BOLD, internal conversations either withthemselves or others in Italics**

_France 1897_

The watcher stood at the end of the abandoned platform peering into the nights as the man disappeared into the darkness.

_HMMM for once I must have been wrong…_

But she knew that was an excuse, she couldn't have missed it. The last gasp for air and the shudder of the chest, as the heart no longer beat, the unseeing eyes staring into the moonlight, almost accusing the stars themselves for letting him down.

She remembered 1896, mainly the rain, everywhere she went it was raining. She remembered standing over him, watching him dying after the fight; his full lips had turned blue. The pulse had not been there. She knew haw to check for life on over 600 different species. So doing it on a human cross was no problem at all. But she wanted to know what the hell was happening. But now he was different. As she had looked in to those bloodshot pumped up eyes, two people had stared back. One was controlling the other. She was unsure of the actual drug being used. It may have been a side affect or it may have actually been someone else's conscience in there.

Her curiosity was now open. She wouldn't stop until she knew what was what. She needed to collect her things and go back to trace him after that fight.

~~~oOo~~~

_Ellis Island 1896_

After the fight with the Jones brothers Jack had stumbled down to the docks, this was the 9th time he should have died, but the same as before, something had denied him the blissful slumber of death. Something constantly dragged him back. Forced air into his still lungs, made him take the breath of life. His body ached. Would he get used to the feeling of being dragged across plains of broken glass, or would it be the same time after time?

He did a quick mental check of himself, 2 Arms? Yep. 2 Legs? Yep. Just the one head? Yep. Still male? Yep. Is _it_ still useable? He'll have to find out later. He needed to sleep, hopefully with out dreams. He shook his head to clear the muzzy feeling. He felt pressure behind his eyes, like something extra was in there with him. Perhaps it was something linked to this not dying thing.

He stumbled to the nearest hostelry and banged on the door. He glanced up at the stars again. They were starting to become familiar. He was stuck here, for how long only the gods knew, but here he was. He banged on the door again. A man eventually answered it, with more beard on his chin than hair on his head. He smiled at Jack.

"I knew you'd come back. Pint of the usual?" He asked jovially?

"No not this time, Joseph, boiled water please" The man nodded and bustled off to bring a pot of hot water."

Jack wandered over to the chair near the fire, He felt old, he probably was but in a reverse sort of way. Here he was, stuck on a backwater planet, no contact with civilised people. He hadn't even been born yet. He stared at the fireplace, watching the burning logs spit and crackle. He could see his future ahead of him, lonely moments turning into lonely years. Would he change, would he age? Would he manage to get death to stick at some point?

He fought sleep not wanting to close his eyes for the fear of the nightmares the dreams held, but he didn't want them open either as the waking nightmare he was stuck in threatened to send him mad. He was scared and lonely. He knew there was nowhere to hide in his own head from his fears and dreams.

Joseph bustled back in. a pot of hot water in his hand. He looked at the man slumped in the chair, his feet on the little stool. Snores mingled with 'wrfsup' came from him. Joseph shuddered. He really liked this man. This stranger to these shores, but whenever he slept here the whole household had nightmares. He resolved to stay awake… Tonight was one night he could do with out those nightmares. He could feel it in the air; there was a strange tang in it. Somebody was out there, waiting and watching his home.

Jack dreamed a memory:-

**He dreamed of the battle in the game station. Of building barricades to stop the Daleks getting to the survivors. Of each of those survivors being slowly picked off. He watched himself run down a dead end corridor followed by three of the damn things. His bullets were useless against them. He considered throwing the guns at them. He wasn't going down a coward. As they raised their armature to blast him, he stood proud, cocky even taunting them. He felt the heat sear through every atom of his being, he felt the thud as his back connected against the wall. Then nothing. **

**He was stood in the middle of blackness. He was unsure what he was standing on but it looked like nothing. Everything was nothing. Was this it? His conscience thought. Is this heaven or hell? He was disappointed. He expected something at least. Back home, they had observed the rituals, the calling of the night, and the passing of the day. His father had laughed at the more obscure rituals, claiming that the gods didn't need all that faff; they knew that they were good people, well his parents were. But, perhaps they really did, and this was what happened to souls that didn't observe all the necessaries.**

**A bright pinprick of light was slowly coming towards him, as he watched it, it began to speed up. Within moments it had enveloped him, forced itself into him. Tore at his unconscious form, and made him breathe. That breath had brought him back to the game station. And with it the curse, that made him live.**

He jarred awake; the re-occurring nightmare of his death had resurfaced again. He thought he had buried that one deep. From upstairs he heard a child cry out in its sleep. _Happy thoughts Jack_ he told himself, _or at least learn to stop projecting dreams_.

Jack sighed loudly, startling the only other occupant of the room.

"Hello?"

A figure leaned towards the fireplace from the other comfy chair, warming his hands against the heat. Jack nodded a greeting, not really wanting to engage in conversation.

"Rough night?" asked the figure. Unconsciously jack fingered his collar, wondering if the knife had made a scar. He then realised there would be a lot of blood still on him.

Joseph would have noticed, but being the man Jack only wished he could be, would make no comment or report to the excuse for a police force.

"Yeah, you could say that." He replied.

"You're not from around here are you? Your accent is familiar, but I can't quite place it" the man was insisting on being social, much to Jacks dismay. Jack shook his head.

"I'm from lots of different places, my friends left me by accident."

"Some Friends"

"MMM" agreed Jack

The man snapped his fingers in realisation

"Got it! You're from the Boshane Peninsular. Can you reign in your pheromones too? I can smell your fear and worry from here."

The stranger stood and worked the crick out of his neck. He was a neat man dressed in the serious fashion of the time. A Passer-by would have easily taken him for a shipping clerk. His little wiry glasses perched on the end of his nose. Long dark hair was pulled back from his face to show off a squared jaw line and a mischievous glint in his eyes. He strode over to the window and gazed out before turning back to Jack.

"I'm Flick, You must be Deo.." Jack interrupted him

"Jack, Jack Harkness. You know me?"

"So that's what you call yourself now. Hell yes who doesn't? You're the time agent extraordinaire. Third level Captain. Worked your way through the ranks. Helped the highers pull off the most amazing coups. Planned half of them yourself. Then went rogue. Captured and escaped Holding twice. Now works as a Con and weapon for hire. Contract on you mate, 5 mill last I heard. "

Jack shook his head.

"I remember only some of that. Sorry, I've been out of the loop for a while, who are you?"

"Flick Ruthann, God's where have you been? End of the universe? Hanging in the T'hs zone?"

"That's illegal, the T'hs zone has been time locked for centuries. "

"Yeah well, if you believe that mate you believe in fairies. How the hell did Hart get out then? Most of what we did was illegal. We messed with time, ripped it open and stitched it back again. With better governments all who would prefer to hail the peace rather than the war. We've killed, meddled, stole and massacred our way around the timelines. All in the name of the Higher government, and now they want us back. To take away everything they made us into. They want our memories and make us what we are not." Flick had paced the floor, long legs covering ground quickly, and in this small room, ended up dodging things, and turning back on himself often.

Jack had listened to Flick's little rant. It made sense, He remembered going to Holding at some point but he didn't know why.

"They took 2 years of my memories away" he said quietly.

"Yeah we heard. You were the first."

"Why? Why would they do that?"

"Do you really want to know? I can show you, but only if you're willing to open your mind to me"

Jack considered it a moment, Flick sensed his hesitation.

"You were an urban legend, the Highers used to use your story as an example, to the newly elected so that they didn't make the same mistake. They made a nightmare out of you. You knew what you wanted, had nothing left to loose, and became a cannon, aimed directly at the heart of the Highers."

"Ok, show me. But you don't go wandering in there. I've buried too many things of my past that I don't need to have resurfaced." Jack agreed hesitatingly. Flick strode over to him, and placed a hand either side of Jack's head. Flicks fingers encased the whole of Jacks face.

"Close your eyes" he ordered. Obediently Jack did and almost immediately saw the images. The broken body of a woman and small child lay in front of his feet.

"Who?" Jack asked

"Your wife and daughter. You don't recognise them?"

Jack shook his head

"Shit the bastards went deeper than I thought. Your wife and daughter didn't escape in time, the slavers were given the planet, killed most of the women. The others they raped. Homes destroyed, crops flamed. The whole of the planet ravaged in one click.

"Which?"

"Boshane" admitted Flick.

Jack's breath caught in his throat. _Home, I have no home to go back to now_

"The President had 'accidentally' signed the wrong orders. The slavers were in the pay of the lower government. You had nothing to left to loose."

Another memory swam to the surface: -

**He stood in the middle of an opulent palace. In each hand was a laser cannon, strapped to his back a Daigont sword and short blade hilt. His pockets bulged with illegal H'sani time bombs. These slowed everything down around the user, allowing him time to do as he pleased. The picture swung round him. He stood there with murder in his eyes, and hate in his soul. He wanted nothing less than to kill everything and tear down the universe. Alarms had started ringing around him and in seconds in that perfect palace, the security bowled out of every available door and aimed themselves at him. The bombs went off, and he went round every guard and gutted them. Leaving them to bleed to death. Time speeded up as he ran up the grand staircase, gunning down every politician he could find, till eventually he came to the presidents door. One kick, and the door was off the hinges. The room was dark.**

**He stood in the middle and swung the laser cannons round as he peered through the dark to find the President. Slowly the lights returned, and stood in front of the presidents desks he recognised four time agents. The gentle Roo, it was her misfortune to be there. She was more of a empath and techs expert than field agent. Steele, the overall commander of the 200 time agents. Phire, Telepath and weapons expert. And John Hart resident killer and psycho. Bloody good with any weapon. and unafraid to use what ever knowledge he could gain to get an advantage over his opponent.**

**He fought Steele and Hart together whilst Roo had tried to turn his own mind against him. Phire worked on his body. They eventually subdued him. The empaths had broken down his mental shields, the psycho had broken him physically. He watched himself lay on the floor, as Hart and Steele gave him an extra kick for good measure.**

**He watched himself being dragged away by Steele and Hart to be taken to Holding for 're-conditioning'**

Flick removed his hands, severing the link.

"Then what?" Jack asked.

"You weren't seen for two weeks, and then turned up in Holding. They took your memories and your empathic abilities"

Jack shuddered, _Yet another nightmare to bury I suppose. I need to leave, get away from here._

"Why haven't you left, use your wrist strap" Flick asked.

"I can't its damaged. I'm now stuck here, waiting for someone."

Flick returned to his seat a cold smile on his face.

"I may be able to help you forget at least"

Jack shook his head. "Tried it, Drink only subdues the projection of the nightmares. I only don't dream when I'm…" He hesitated, he didn't feel comfortable telling this stranger about being unable to stay dead, dying wasn't the problem, he could do that, but staying there that was another matter "…knocked out, and my skull really doesn't want to be bashed to pieces every night thank you, tried loosing myself in sex. That doesn't work either. The memories remain."

Flick nodded in agreement, "Yeah, been down that road too"

He reached into a pocket and withdrew a small white card and passed it to Jack.

"It's blank" he replied turning it over in his hand

"When things get to bad go the address that appears here"

"What's here?"

"Oblivion" Promised Flick

Jack sat back in his seat. "How? How can you promise oblivion?"

Flick had been subtle in his tampering in Jacks mind, he'd swapped images round, enhanced one thing, suppressed others, invented, cheated and lied his way through the images. Hammered at Jacks mental barrier. He needed Jack on his side. Time agents were disappearing, and for all his faults Jack could be trusted. Once bought, he stayed bought until the job was done, but Flick still needed a hold on him and the promise of oblivion from the nightmares, both old ones, and new ones would just about do it. If He had to stay hidden on this backwater world until the timing and planning was right then they would never find him and the universe would be his.

* * *

If you like please feed me a review... I get lonley!


	5. Chapter 5 The birth of a legend

**Summary: AU. Jack before TW. Before the Turn of the 20****th**** Century. How did he cope with being abandoned and unable to stay dead, And what of the strange person watching his movements. How low can he go before he realises why he's here. Events hinted at in White noise. ****Please note several sessions of bad language!**

**Characters: Captain Jack. Flick(ex-time agent)**

**Disclaimer: It's only in my imagination. *big sigh***

**Will get M rated before the end so if you like please tag as it gets flaming hard to find after!… Please feed me reviews! **

**Thank you Anglekitty for encouraging me and reading it through.**

_Ellis Island 1896_

Flick rose, yawned and looked at him.

"Think about it" he asked

"I will," promised Jack.

As Flick left the building Jack continued to stare into the ebbing fire. The spits and crackles of a dying fire did nothing to stir him. The creeping cold of the night found him still in the chair, but with unseeing eyes watching the glowing embers of a now dead fire.

The memories Flick had opened flooded back to Jack's mind. The stop gates opened and he became overwhelmed, but above all of them, the most vivid was his own loss.

~~~oOo~~~

**He was kneeling in the sand, the warmth of the sun against his back. The smell was **

**overpowering. The warm heavy odours of burning wood mixed with the choking smell of melted plastics. Overlaying both those was the cloying smell of burning flesh. So far the team had not said if any inhabitants were slaughtered in the fires. They'd seen only livestock, but for most of them even that went too far. This was the straw that broke the camel's back. It would be the start of the turn the agency against the Highers. This revolution would be a slow burning one.**

**But for Jack that was all nothing, it was far away. What mattered was the here and now. The hand of his friend rested on his shoulder in sorrow. The small battered and bruised child lay cradled against Jacks chest. Her brown curls almost touching the sand. Her mother had never wanted them cut. He let out an anguished cry. He was enveloped in his grief. Salty tears ran down his face and disappeared in the sand. He'd promised he'd be home for the festival of the gods. The mission had overrun. **

**In the depths of his grief he heard a voice. **

"**Jack, they found her, she's barely alive, come quick"**

**Still clutching his dead child he numbly followed the others to the burnt out ruins of the village. Dead eyes followed him everywhere he looked. He could see the accusations in their open stare. **_**Where was I when this happened, why wasn't I here? **_** He whispered.**

**He came to the shell of a burned building. The medics were clustered around a table. A drip stood by. The medics were fighting to insert the needle into the woman on the table. As they saw him approach, the group moved away, giving him access to her. He choked back a cry. **

"**E'tahnia! Oh Gods E'tahnia. What happened?" **

"**Where's my baby Jack, where's our little girl?" The woman's voice was gentle, sorrowful and full of pain. He laid the still body of the child beside his wife. Her bloodied arm reached out, and caressed her. Painfully E'tahnia rolled onto her side. **

"**She'll wake soon Jack" Her voice hopeful, but her eyes lied. In her heart she knew the inevitable. The one thing that every mother fears had happened. **

**Jack shook his head. Tears still streamed down his face.**

"**She's gone. The gods have her now."**

**E'tahnia slowly and painfully drew breath. **

"**I want you to find out who authorised this Jack. I want…" she started coughing **

**roughly, blood coming up from her lungs into he mouth in great congealed globs. Weakly she spat them out.**

"**Don't talk E't. The Medics will make you better. Then we can both find out and kill **

**them"**

**E'tahnia shook her head slowly. "Ell needs me. The gods alone, cannot control our little one. She will be scared, she needs me. I Love you. Do not cry alone, do not cry long. But do not forget us"**

**E'tahnia closed her eyes and sighed. Medics moved him to one side. **

**Jack stood unnoticed and lost in the middle of the only remaining room in the whole **

**village, watching the medics fight death. They'd cheated Death before many times in places of war, whilst Death collected other souls, but this time, Death waited, watching, for their failure. He didn't have to wait long before E'tahnia 's soul stood beside him on the circled path. Her body lay beside her child and her husband was unable to stop his heart breaking. **

~~~oOo~~~

A sob slightly woke Jack, from the dream. He turned to look round, Joseph was leaning

on the bar, asleep and weeping. Jack snuggled back down and unwillingly returned to his

dream

~~~oOo~~~

**Several days later, when the remaining villagers had been tempted back from the **

**mountains. A mass grave was dug. Whole families were placed in their final resting **

**place, waiting for the gods to claim their souls, but close by the beach stood a lonely man, staring out to sea. At his feet lay a freshly dug grave. His wife and child laid to rest, beneath a pile of stones. A simple marker would show their place. He knew that the gods had forsaken him. He wanted to die, but first he would kill those responsible.**

~~~oOo~~~

Jack once again stirred in his sleep. A cry from upstairs didn't wake him. Joseph, who had woken suddenly, bustled round the public room. A strange nightmare had woken him. Once again it involved Mr Harkness. Although this time it had all but broken his heart. Unable to return to sleep he bustled around the public bar, making a show of cleaning up. He noticed Jack fast asleep in the chair by the fire, and not wishing to disturb him covered him with a thick woollen blanket retrieved from the store room below. Jack snuggled into it.

~~~oOo~~~

Standing on the steps to parliament, Jack was calm, and cool headed. He'd done his

research well. He knew it was more than a simple mistake. They wanted the mineral

that the planet stored in its heart. The inhabitants stood in the way of this. So

accidentally licence had been given to the slavers to take the planet. Six months of his

life had disappeared in this obsession.

He rechecked his weapons and the shielding to hide them. The Highers had armed

each Time Agent with a whole host of weaponry and a whole host of ways to smuggling

them. It had arrogantly believed that these Agents would never turn on them. That

would be their last mistake he was sure of that.

Calmly he walked up the many steps to the main building. Officially each step

represented a colony living in the far reaches of the universe. To Jack, each step represented a victim of the massacre. His calmness grew chilling. The long black overcoat, which hid the weapons, was buttoned against the wind. A Scarf wrapped round his neck, hid the re-breather to guard against the gas the security were sure to use.

Once inside he stood in the middle of the opulent palace. On the ceiling above him a

pattern of the galaxies where humans had made home. He clenched and unclenched his

fists. _Now it begins_ he whispered. He removed the scarf and unbuttoned the coat

allowing it to flap around, as he strode towards the stairs to the presidents room. He

shrugged off the coat, revealing the Daigont sword and shortened bladed hilt. The laser

cannons seated in their holsters were removed and primed. His jean pockets bulged with

the illegal H'sani time bombs.

The system finally scented the time bombs and alarms screamed out a warning.

People screamed out in fear and rushed for the doors. Security bowled out of their

offices. Jack counted under his breath.

"7…8…9…Drop"

Time bombs rolled from his pockets as the security started firing on him. As each bomb

exploded, the ripple in time made Jack invisible. He moved in the gaps between each

nanosecond. Laser cannon blasted from different points in the gallery, as he moved

purposefully with revenge in his soul.

Guards collapsed lifelessly in his wake as he made his way to the top. As the last of the

bombs expired Jack was back in real time. Politicians were gunned down as he passed.

The staff were more sensible and hid away, cowering under desks.

**He eventually stood breathing in front of the president's door. It took several kicks to dent the door, finally he lost patience with it, and aimed the cannon at it, and blasted it open. **

**The room was pitch black. He removed the sword from his back holster and holding it in one hand and a cannon in the other swung both weapons as he peered through the darkness looking for the president. **

"**Well Well Well, Look what the H'sani dragged in" a voice cut through the dark.**

"**Leave the banter Hart" a gentle woman's voice chided the first speaker. **

"**Sorry Jack, give it up now. It was wrong but give it up. You don't want to go to holding" A Third voice.**

"E'tahnia and Ell are dead. My world is almost dead. It was a tiny little world, never did any harm. We were farmers for the gods sake, what could we have done to the

**Highers? It ends here. Once he's dead" Jack growled. **

**The lights slowly returned one by one, each one turned on to Jack. He was knocked off his feet as someone tackled him to the ground. The fight was ugly. Both Steele and Hart attacked him at once. Each of them was a master in their methods. Together they should have been unstoppable. But Jack had cold rage on his side and nothing held him back…**

**That was until the pulse on the laser died, then he had to rely on the sword. When that eventually broke he realised, that Roo had released a magnat pulse breaking the weapons down into component level.**

**For six months he'd been living on his grief and rage, and now both were dissipating. Hart punched him in the stomach; then brought his fists crashing down on to Jacks skull knocking him to the floor. Steele grabbed him by the collar and threw him over to the Presidents desk. Another agent, Lady Roo mounted a telepathic war against him. As Steele and Hart broke him physically, the lady broke him emotionally and mentally. He lay in a heap in the middle of the broken desk. Hart pulled him from the wreckage into the middle of the floor. He kicked him over onto his stomach. Jacks hands were roughly pulled behind his back. Roo concentrated and secured Jacks hands there with the new style pulsecuffs. Once these were on there was no way that Jack could wiggle out of them, they were the strongest secure cuffs in the galaxy. There would be no point in trying. He'd heard the rumours, the deaths caused by them in the experimental stage.**

**The reality was a little different. Holding his hands behind his back was simply a small length of wire, there was no tricks, other than simply a case of mind over matter. But in this case Jack's mind was controlled by a top grade empath, who was also a weapons expert. **

**No contest.**

**He was going to Holding for 'Re-conditioning'**

~~~oOo~~~

He woke with a start. The grey light of the morning seeped into the room. The blanket had fallen on to the floor. He was cold, so very cold. Everything was clear. He now knew why he'd lost two years of his memories. The Highers had removed them at Holding, they didn't care for a repeat of his attempt. They'd taken his means to do something, and the Doctor had left him stranded. He still grieved for his wife and child. And he could now do nothing to avenge them.


	6. Chapter 6 Get to France

**Characters: Captain Jack. Oc's- Flick (ex-timeagent), Cornelia (Bounty Hunter) **

**Disclaimer: It's only in my imagination. **

**Will get M rated before the end so if you like please tag as it gets flaming hard to find after!… Please feed me reviews as starving here!**

**Thank you Anglekitty and Emelye14283 for encouraging me and reading it through and Professor Herb for listening to the mad ideas. **

_Ellis Island 1896_

He reached down for his now cooled water; Joseph had been kind enough to cover him with a blanket, and to leave his water beside him. He heard the muffled cry of a child upstairs, and the muted words of her mother trying to sooth her. By the sounds of it she was inconsolable. He'd been projecting dreams again.

It was time to leave. He'd try Europe; get out of this hole, and away from people. If he could get to Siberia only the wolves would share his dreams, and that would surely keep them at bay.

He padded to his room upstairs, passing the child's room. The murmur of her mother's voice and the odd stifled sob could still be heard. His room at the end of the corridor was small. A tiny round window let in the first rays of a sunrise. He'd been here a while, yet still it looked like an empty room. He'd not made any attempt to personalise it. There were no clothes strewn around (his mother had always complained he was a messy child), no personal items on the dresser, the bed perfectly made. This room was empty of soul.

He withdrew a bag from under the bed, and took from the dresser and wardrobe what little he had. Several coins from the pot inside one of the drawers chinked as he wrenched it open. With these and the several small caches of coins, hidden around the town, saved from several cons he had done when he had first arrived. It should total a tidy little sum, enough to get him on a ship to France, and from there on to Russia and on to the Urals. He could hide away until the end of time itself if needed. He looked at the Time Agencies standard issue strap encircling his wrist. before tearing it off and throwing it on the bed in disgust, it no longer worked, he no longer needed it. A timid knock disturbed him. Slowly he turned around. His eyes dropped down to the small child stood in the doorway.

Still in her night dress and holding a ragged bunny she looked up at him. Her green eyes pierced his soul. Soft gentle brown curls, mussed from the nights poor sleep fell over her shoulder. Her feet were bare on the cold floor. She looked at him, and for a moment he swore she was centuries older than she looked.

"Bye Jack, your path is obscure, your time here long. Enjoy the small moments as the large ones will be few and far between" Her voice was vague, as though talking to him from a distance of years.

He stooped down to her. "What did you say?

"Bye bye Mr Harkness" She replied before skipping away down the corridor to her room.

He lugged his bag down the stairs and faced Joseph.

"Goodbye Mr Harkness, we won't be seeing you for a while will we?" Joseph asked.

Jack shook his head sadly

"I'm sorry Joseph, I've caused many sleepless nights I know. I won't be coming back"

"You will Mr Harkness. The waifs and strays always come back at sometime in their life. Besides you know there will always be a pint or two of your favourite here. Word of advice Mr Harkness, never take for granted what is under your nose. Hiding in plain view is the best place to be. There are more of us out there than you know."

Jack stared at him, before grasping Joseph in a final hug, and then walking away

"We'll all still be here in a few hundred, waiting and watching out for you." Joseph whispered to Jacks retreating back.

~~~oOo~~~

The passage to France was in the main uneventful; the boat merrily steamed its way over the Atlantic to Calais. The Passengers however, slept fitfully, nightmares intruded into their sleep, strange creatures and robots bent on their destruction. By the time the ship reached France, everyone was at breaking point, Jacks guilt ate away at him, knowing he was the cause, made things worse. His aim was to leave for the countryside as soon as possible, less people to hurt, or frighten. As he stepped off the ship, the weight of the years lifted momentarily. Here in the rabble of another country he could start again, he'd have to fudge records, occasionally go off and die, perhaps leave everything in a will left to a mysterious stranger who would eventually collect it. The dark cloud of despair found him again. Try as he might he couldn't forget the increasingly disturbing nightmares. The rain gentle at first pounded him again, soaking him to the skin. Like a man defeated he left the bustling port and headed towards the country.

Jack had decided to conserve what little money he had brought with him and stay away from the cities, towns or villages. There were too many temptations, too many reasons to leave. The weather favoured him occasionally as he slept rough, snatching the occasional nightmare infested sleep. By the time he reached the halfway mark to Paris he hardly slept at night. The re-occurring guilt of not being able to save E'tahnia and Ell swept through his dreams, waking him often. Although constantly at the edge of these dreams two figures stood, hazy, watching him. A flame haired woman he'd only seen in a memory and Flick, the man who'd reopened his mind, giving him an answer to why he'd lost two years of memories. As much as he regretted allowing him into his mind, due to the increasing nightmare of his loss, Jack was at lease relieved to regain his memory.

The summer gradually turned to golden autumn; the first frosts coated the still remaining leaves, marking the passing of the year. Loneliness wrapped its cloak around him, blanketing him from his surroundings. He avoided people as best as he could, skirting around the villages, venturing in only to buy a little food. When his money ran out he chose out of the way farms to work for food. Slowly he taught himself to control his projections, and to rely and survive on a few hours sleep a day.

Finally on the edge of winter he withdrew the card Flick had given him, it was no longer blank some how over the passage of time an address had appeared, with the reiteration of a promise of oblivion. He made up his mind. If he was unable to get death to stick then he needed to get rid of the nightmares, and oblivion seamed the only way. He turned around and made his way to Paris.

It was Christmas Eve by the time Jack finally walked down the well-trodden streets. Glancing at a street sign he turned into a semi lit street. There in the middle of beautiful houses was the one he was looking for. The austere house was close to the cathedral; its surrounding beauty made the house seam plain, and unloved. The red door shone brightly out in the dark evening lights. The windows looking out into the streets were blank eyes looking into the soul.

_Never trust a house with a red door_. He turned looking for the speaker before remembering that they were his mother's words. She hated the colour red, she frequently would pull all the red flowers from the simple garden that he and Grey had planted for her.

_Red and white, blood and bandages, all comes down to death in the end._ Perhaps she was right. He'd done too many killings, and seen far too much blood on innocent hands. Enough to last a lifetime or two. He just wanted it all to go away, to sleep without nightmares, to be at peace for a little while. That and for the Doctor to return and tell him what was wrong with him was all he wanted.

Early revellers crossed the road to avoid the raggedy half starved man stood outside the house. Even at this charitable time very few found the time to offer help, or speak to him. Those that did, he looked at blankly, before looking back to the door, summoning the courage to knock. He held the card tightly, like a drowning man holding a lifesaver. He glanced at the card again, 1908 Rue des Cauchemars*, a wry smile crossed his face, _makes sense I suppose._ He thought to himself as he stepped up to the door. He noticed a small plaque by the side of the bell pull. "mémoire de vieux péchés peuvent être détruits par la folie de nouveaux espoirs**"

He yanked on the bell pull before he could change his mind. Doubts assailed him whilst he waited. The door opened slightly, two brown eyes peered at him through the crack.

"Yes?" her voice was like a bell, clear and pure, he could hear her smile behind the question.

"Err. I was given this, Err.." he flourished the card

"He promised you oblivion?"

He nodded. The door opened wider and a long slender arm reached out and took the card from him before the door closed on him. In surprise he just stood there for a moment before turning away. He heard the door reopen.

"Hello… Jack" Flicks voice floated out over his shoulder.

"I do believe you're ready" Jack closed his eyes in relief before turning back to the speaker. Flick stood in the doorway, arms stretched out to welcome Jack in. Jack stepped towards him before being embraced tightly and warmly

"It's about time you came home" Flick whispered in his ear.

Cautiously Jack stepped through the door and the woman closed it behind him. The hallway was panelled in dark ebony yet it exuded light in a strange way. Metallic weapons lined the walls. Jack stared at them. He'd not seen this many weapons since he'd picked up that special little number from the H'sani and their little cache of weapons. He smiled at the memory. Now that was a good war. Till he'd come face to face with Hart on the battlefield, due to him they'd eventually lost the coup. It was the first time he'd failed. Made sure it was the last time too. Hart had left a good many scars in his memory.

He brought himself back to reality. But Flick answered the unspoken question.

"Perception filters, I'm in the middle of a war. I never know who may be calling"

Jack nodded, a gesture of understanding, even though he was too tired to even try to understand.

In the sitting room a roaring fire belted out heat, Jack crossed to it immediately to warm his frozen toes, hands and eventually backside. Crossing the threshold to the house had made him realise how cold he'd become. Flick reached out to take Jacks meagre belongings, only for Jack to respond by clutching them tighter before realising them into Flicks open hands.

"Now let me look at you" Flick stepped back and gave him the once over.

"You've lost weight, what have you done walked all the way from New York?" Flick was critical, before yelling for the woman who appeared silently beside him.

"Take this and place in the blue room. He needs food, and a Kohbol, plus a bath – he stinks"

Within ten minutes food appeared along with a warm milky drink. The aroma of spices filled the air, cinnamon, mace, vanilla, all swirled round in the air with each movement the two men made. Jack told Flick about the nightmares and the journey from New York whilst cramming food into his mouth.

"God above Jack, when did you last eat?" Flick asked when a large piece of chicken stopped Jack for a moment

"What day is it?"

"Tuesday"

"Last proper meal two weeks Sunday. Stole bits of bread, rummaged, tried roots."

"Why are you here Jack?"

"You promised you could get me oblivion. Stop these nightmares. You promised you could help me" Jack looked over to Flick, his eyes begging.

"And that I can. Drink up, I need to see in your mind, open all doors. Otherwise I can't help you need to do exactly what I tell you"

Whilst Jack drank the milk he could hear a faint scream on the edge of his hearing. He fancied he could hear footsteps and a door slam, furniture being piled against the door barring all entry. He looked round Flick gave no indication of hearing anything. The pressure behind his eyes had gone. He looked at the now empty glass. It must have been his imagination. He leaned back in the chair, and allowed Flick to wrap his fingers around his skull.

Ten minuets later Flick gasped and let go of Jacks head.

"You travelled with _him?_?"

"A little,

"You survived the Daleks? You hitched a lift on a sundog?*** You are a fighter Jack, no doubt about that"

"What else did you see?"

"Your life, everything you have ever done, and everything you ever thought, also everyone you have ever done too. You're pretty free and easy with your affections aren't you?"

Flick never mentioned his deaths, 12 so far, including the ones getting here. Toadstools do not make good meals. Did he see them? Did he know about Rose's gift? Jack wondered

"I know your treatment now; I need you to trust me Jack. I can't help you without that trust"

"I will" he yawned in response

Flick grabbed Jack's hand and dragged him from the chair

"Bath and bed, you stink, I'll show you the room, then get you more Khobol."

The room Suzanne had made up was simple, an inviting bed alongside one wall, a washstand and basin on the other, beside a wide sash window a comfy chair placed so the occupant could watch the world go by.

A silent fire was in the hearth. Issuing more heat than it really should. Ah Technology at work here… but it felt so good. Steam rose invitingly from the slipper bath placed in front of the fire. He shrugged off his filthy clothes and looked at himself in the full-length mirror on the wall. He looked wretched and tired, no wonder people avoided him. He turned to climb into the bath and slip into the warm rose scented water.

Suzanne brought in a jug of the milky Khobol, He drank thirstily and for the first time in several months he relaxed. The effect of the bath and drink finally easing the ache in his bones and heart. He fought to keep his eyes open as he soaked. He finally drifted into sleep, his body slipping further down the bath, till friction stopped him moving any more, leaving his nose just slightly above the water line.

He didn't hear Suzanne come in and remove his clothes to be taken and burnt. He failed to hear the Cathedral bells ringing out for midnight mass. He failed to hear the heavy footsteps of Flick come into his room and sit on the end of the bed watching and waiting in the light of the full moon streaming through the open window. Its gentle light fell on him in a blessing.

*Google translate: Street of nightmares

** memory of old sins can be destroyed by the madness of new hopes (bastardisation of Oscar Wilde quote from the picture of Dorian Grey)

*** Sun dog See Terry Pratchett's Dark Side of the Sun, They are a cool way to travel!


	7. Chapter 7 The Soul Walkers

**Characters: Captain Jack. Oc's- Flick (ex-timeagent), Suzzane, Viktor **

**Disclaimer: It's only in my imagination. **

**Will get M rated before the end so if you like please tag as it gets flaming hard to find after!… Please feed me reviews as starving here!**

**Thank you Anglekitty and Emelye14283 for encouraging me and reading it through and Professor Herb for listening to the mad ideas. **

_Ellis Island 1896_

_Paris 1896 Christmas Eve_

The cold seeped into his bones waking him eventually. A dirt scum floated around him. He wiped sleep from his eyes, and then despite the scum immersed himself completely in the cold water.

_Oh to be clean, _he thought, slowly the water around him grew dirtier.

_I wonder how long I slept. _The water fountained upwards as he exploded out of the water.

_I didn't dream! I slept and I didn't dream._ He glanced over to the glass on the table, the remaining innocuous fluid just sat in the glass. He heard a snort of barely contained laughter and splashed round, sending dirty water cascading over the sides, leaving puddles on the floor. Flick stood and wandered over to the bath, he trailed a hand into the water

'Hello, sleep well?'

Jack grinned, ' like a dream,'

'I take it you didn't'

Jack was slow on the uptake

'Dream, did you dream?'

Still grinning he shook his head.

'Waters cold.'

Jack grabbed the proffered soap and began scrubbing vigorously, the dirt peeling away. Flick simply sat and watched him, neither of them inclined to fill in the silence. Eventually Flick gently took the soap from Jacks unresisting hands and moved to the rear of the bath, He lathered up Jacks back, his fingers running up and down his spine, feeling every join of his ribs, then gradually working out the tensions and knots from Jacks lower back and shoulder muscles. Jack was hunched over his drawn up knees, enjoying every moment. Somehow the water was heating up, and becoming cleaner, despite the dirt coming off him in layers. He threw a questioning glance at Flick.

"Just because I'm here I don't have to live like them. Technology's a wonderful thing, Dontcha know?"

Flick drew a jug of clean water and poured it over Jacks head, before applying the soap to the already wet hair, dirty suds running rivulets down his back. Finally cleaned to Flicks satisfaction he stood and stepped out of the bath to dry naked in front of the fire, His skin pink from being scrubbed vigorously.

'Gods your thin!' exclaimed Flick, first throwing a towel, then fresh clothes at Jack, who deftly caught them and dried himself off.

'It was a long walk. Why didn't I dream? What was in the drink?'

'The Khobol? Herbs, some seeds, poppy I think, Suzanne makes it. Was it nice?'

Jack nodded.

"Why are you helping me?" he asked Flick who simply shrugged.

"Seemed like a good idea at the time." He sighed "To tell the truth Jack it's for completely selfish reasons. I'm lonely, no one here knows what its like to see the dark side of the sun, or watch the clock nebular spin away from the T'sha zone. I have friends here, but I can't talk about the Agency or war, or aliens or about home.' he dropped his eyes from Jacks gaze,

"Besides I need some one with your talent to help me gain the key"

"What Key? What do you actually need?" Jack asked sharply.

"The old legend about the beginning of the universe, do you remember it?"

"Some of it", admitted Jack, "but it's a story for children"

"It always starts somewhere, there's a train of thought that if you believe in something hard enough it happens" Jack snorted his derision.

"Miracles. They're nothing but coincidences and back vision. There is no divine intervention, no pre-made path that is made for each and every life. If there is I've wandered so far from mine, I've been forgotten" He smiled sadly.

"O…k…, fair enough, but everyone believes that something happened to start the universe, it had to start somehow. I'm not interested in that, it's the Key I need. The key that can open the door to the start of the universe. The key opens the door to the knowledge, the power, and to Time itself. If we have the Key we can turn back Time. We can stop the corruption of the Agency, The start of the time wars, Every time things go wrong, the Key can return us to the point before it goes wrong and we can change things. You can return to Boshane…"

He watched Jacks face intently. The realization slowly crossed it.

"E'tannia and Ell. I can save them?…"

Flick nodded

"And not just them, Grey, your father, your mother, all of them. Time will be perfect, no war, and no disease. Death through old age, nothing else."

Jack sat on the end of the bed, pinching the bridge of his nose,

"I need to think."

"You have till morning. I'll get some more of the draught, help you sleep tonight. I need an answer in the morning." Flick walked to the door, before stopping and looking back.

"Even if your answer is no, I wont stop helping you with those nightmares Jack, you have my word on that" with that promise Flick left the room.

Jack threw himself on the bed and bounced a couple of times. It was a long time since he slept in a proper bed. It was impossible to turn back time, the agency had tried, but it always ended up the same, the same mistakes, errors of judgment or plain atrocities always happened, either by the same people, or others. Some things couldn't be changed. He stared at the ceiling, then got off the bed and flopped into the chair by the window. His brain stumbled over Flicks proposition, but each time his heart stopped the logic and images of E'tannia and Ell clouded his vision. He stared out over the rooftops, watching the moon edge its way from behind a cloud. A knock on his door announced the arrival of Suzanne a large steaming mug of draught in her hand. She smiled and placed it beside him.

"Where are you from Suzanne?" He asked catching her arm, she shrank back in fear.

"Don't hurt me please" She whispered, shocked he let go and she bolted from the room.

The mug steamed gently, the fragrance of the herbs wafted across his senses, he hadn't realised he was thirsty. Grabbing the mug he drank greedily, the cinnamon lingered on his tongue like a lovers kiss, the crushed poppy seeds, still managed to get stuck in his teeth. He ran his tongue round his teeth, trying to remove the stray seeds, occasionally getting a little burst of strawberry flavour with each seed removed. An accidental moan slipped his lips, he was warm, full of food and drink and totally relaxed. _This must be what heaven is like _he thought.

He resumed his watching of the rooftops thinking of what had been and what could be. Visions of the past and future played out in his minds eye.

_It's all lies Jack_ he heard the whisper, soft and gentle. He shook his head to clear his thoughts.

_You were never married,- almost, but they called it off. Remember?_ Again the voice from the back of his thoughts.

"Nightmares again" he took the mug and checked its contents; there was a little left. In one gulp he downed the rest, hoping to drown out the nightmarish thoughts. Setting the mug on the floor and snuggling down in the chair he rested his feet on the table and gazed out at the accompanying moon. The clouds had steadily dissipated from moon, leaving it clear for all to see. A trickle of red ran down the moons face, staining where it lay. Gradually the stain traveled, slowly at first, and then rapidly the moon turned blood red. Jack knew the signs. On a night of a blood moon _they_ would walk, collecting the dead souls who had not passed over, the unwilling even though they had completed their unfinished task.

This was not a good sign, Christmas and the Soul Walkers. Would they find him? They were supposed to be notoriously good at finding those who didn't want to be found. The red light of the blood moon fell on the Parisian street, slowly ghostly figures shimmered into being, a red light tinged them all. A strange gossamer figure stalked through the streets. Each figure wavered slightly before attempting to walk away, only to be drawn back, clawing at unseen hand holds as the gossamer figures wrapped their cloaks around each ghost.

"Save me Jack" a husked voice came from his bed, he turned to face the bed. A red tinged wavering image sat there, blood pouring from a wound in his head, and also from a rather large hole where his heart should have been.

"Don't let them find me, I'm not ready, I don't want to go yet."

"Viktor?" Jack was startled. The remains of the man turned empty eyes towards him.

"We lost Jack. The coup that you promised us was smashed to pieces. The princess was killed, the whole planet torn apart by your war. Families first turned against each other, then against us. The whole world turned blood red. The princess was wrong, she was the evil one. Someone so willing to bind her people into slavery so she could be the power was looking at sanity from the wrong side. And you helped her."

Jack shook his head

"You were blinded by her Jack, she bought you wholesale, and you fell for it all. Then showed your true colours, when it all went to the rats. You left me Jack, You betrayed the whole section."

"No… I Didn't"

"You told them where we were. They came in guns blazing. Remember Rashi? Her head was blown clean off. Jarrett bled to death, Bullet skimmed his brain."

"I…I.. had no choice"

The apparition rose from the bed, and strode towards him, slowly becoming more and more solid.

"There was always a choice."

"No believe me I had no…"

"You should have died! Kept quiet"

"Hart caught me. I was going to erase the princess. I'd finally had my eyes opened. I was so good at starting the coup no one believed me when I wanted to end it. They ripped my spine, I couldn't move. Someone took the information from my head, she gave them the plans." The apparition was disturbingly as solid as he was, arms outstretched towards Jack. His heart pounded, almost fighting to get out of his chest. Fear stopped him from moving. He felt Viktors fingers close around his throat.

"You should be dead" The figure was shouting into his ear

"Can't. Stay. Dead" his reply almost inaudible, as the once insubstantial figure was making a good job of throttling him.

"Oh you will this time"

Jack felt his conscience being pushed back, something/one coming to the fore. His arms fought off the figure; strange words sprang from his mouth. They were not his words. Reality projected a memory on the wall.

~~~oOo~~~

**He remembered the First Battle the worse of all, She'd led them all, a disarray of farmers, nobles and priests. Poorly equipped and ready for the slaughter. He'd stood at her side, waiting watching for the call from her brother and his warriors. The ragtag citizens of Scion Major stood waiting, mismatched weaponry, farming units all to be utilised against the hardened battle forces. He'd whipped them into frenzy, promising equality and riches for all. That they were the force of good against her corrupt and worthless brother. A man who squandered the planets riches in trade offs not utilizing them for the betterment of the poor. **

**He stood watching her as she flew the ship over the battle ground. The equilibrium plate, allowing him to stand as the ship jinked out of the way of the pulse beams, and Tcaid fire. He'd cringed as she laughed when the citadel caught fire, and he realised that the sick were sheltering in there. **

**He'd watched from on high as her 'soldiers' had been blasted apart, leaving mutilated remains on the field. Then the cavalry (so to speak) had turned up. Masses upon masses of the Foritin. They'd promised only one foray into the coup. They turned the tide of the battle and helped the Princess claim victory that day. **

**The butcher's bill was extensive. Almost three quarters of her army were dead; half of the Foritin were almost dead. And still she laughed. His little band of Elite stood by him. Viktor, cocked his head, listening to her celebration.**

**"You know she's lost it don't you?" He whispered to Jack. Jack shook his head, "No. She knows exactly what she's doing"**

**Viktor looked incredulous. "Jack - She's insane. She's talking of taking on the agency and the Highers" **

**Jack would only watch the princess, his heart and head fighting their own private battle. "We stay, we promised help and I never back down on a promise" he growled back. Viktor raised his hands in surrender as he walked away, dismissing Jack's loyalty. "I stay loyal to you only Jack, We all do. When she's gone and burned the world and left your heart breaking, remember I told you so."**

**As Jack and the Princess lay in bed, he watched her face as she concentrated on the next battle plan.**

**"If we make for the higher ground we can fall on Him faster than he can imagine. We can take parliament and the crown."**

**"But if you make for the high ground you have to climb if first. You will loose half your army in getting everything up there. The mountains in winter are not forgiving."**

**"That doesn't matter"**

**"So who will do your fighting? Draw him out over here." He leant over the crumpled map and pointed to the plains below the parliament city. **

**"My people will follow me wherever I tell them." she announced haughtily. **

**The argument started there, and finally ended with him returning to his old quarters with Viktor and gradually getting drunker and drunker.**

**In the morning he received battle orders with bad grace and a bad hangover. She'd slightly accepted his advice of drawing them out, but still the plan would rely on luck more than judgment. Viktor seethed. "We will loose more than 70% of the army. And that's if they are napping. It cannot be done before the snow lifts. Jack, think of the future of this place. Who will tend the fields and feed these people once the battle is won. She needs to give up this plan." Jack nodded slowly. Throughout the night he'd brooded badly. With the early tinges of red sunrise he'd realised he'd been conned himself. This was an internal struggle within the time agency and he'd been selected as the fall guy. His orders hadn't come from the Director but from another source. He was now haunted by his agreements to the mad woman. He no longer agreed with this coup. Her words were now poison to his ears. **

**Viktor had been right, they'd been lucky to limp out of the field with 40% of the army intact. Then all the council of war turned to him, they wanted surrender. They were not warriors or real soldiers, but men with families who'd been lead astray by wishes and wicked promises. . **

**After a week of rest and drawing up a new battle plan, Jack had the chance to finish this lain in his lap. "She flies out to the Market place tomorrow she's trying to drum up the priests. I'll deal with her myself" He told Viktor. Continue as if nothing is wrong. I'll talk to the Prince. Give him her head if needs be. Its time to escape its no longer a game."**

_~~oOo~~_

Jack shook his head to try and clear the fog of memories.

_~~oOo~~_

**His ship nose dived as the pulse cannon took out the engines. A lucky shot had blindsided him. The breath of the gods alone enabled him to get out of there alive. **

**He'd struggled with the escape hatch, which had been bent all out of shape in the roll, before the ship had come to some sort of standstill in the middle of the palace gardens.**

**Still dazed and favoring his right arm he'd fallen out of the upside down ship, then into view of several 'Fallen' These were the damned warriors, once at the prime of their career, before fate had gone against them and left them bitter in their own personal defeat. The majority of them were missing some part of their body, the laws and religions of this planet disallowing nanogenes or cybernetics. **

**He'd been bodily dragged over the gardens, with each step down to the Prince something broke inside of him, a rib, a bone, his will to survive. It became a pain inside his mind to bottle away as taught in the days as a trainee. **

**The following hours had passed in a haze, no one believed him, even the papers he carried agreeing to the unconditional surrender were claimed to be forged. He'd screamed as the laser whip gradually ate into his spine. In the haze of pain he recognized one figure leaning against the wall, enjoying each moment. Then the figure grabbed the whip and sliced piece by piece Jacks back open. Before leaning in whispering "You know you've got this coming Newbie. I told you never to cross me again. Its time to pay."**

**Then came the needles, each one piercing his spinal cord. The tug as each needle was twisted then removed. The fear as feeling disappeared first from his lower back, then his left arm, tingled. He thought he was having a heart attack. They only laughed a harsh guttural laugh. Then as the needles pierced the nape of his neck, the lack of sensation as paralysis affected him neck down. Finally the woman entered the room. She was beautiful, her long flame hair fell down over her shoulders, she was the only one that actually treated him like a person. The Fallen forced his head up so he could make eye contact with her. It was then she entered his mind. A subtle touch here and there and the battle plans were lifted.**

**He'd been kept like that until the Prince had returned from battle victorious. His sister killed in her foolishness. His team were now dead. The healing had taken months, not just bodily healing, but the mental healing. Now all Jack wanted was to get out of here. Revenge was not an option. But in the memory of those who he'd duped into fighting this ridiculous coup, he promised he'd never fail again. **

_~~oOo~~_

Jack relived every moment of pain and fear as, Viktor saw for himself the reality that had been, of the Fallen binding Jack to the table, and the following interrogation and submission.

Viktor let go of Jacks throat, the mind that had defended him sank away, allowing Jacks own mind back into the place it belonged. Viktor staggered back. Fear in his eyes as they searched the room. In the corner by the bed a puddle of gossamer appeared as it dripped through the ceiling. Finally a Soul Walker stood waiting, Viktor screamed, a hollow sound in the darkness of the night. The figure opened its gown, and a red light shone, grabbing Viktor in its rays. Slowly he struggled whilst being pulled backwards towards the figure.

"I'm not ready! They're lies...I want my Revenge!"

Viktor's voice screamed in rage, finally disappearing into the gossamer figure as he did. The figure wrapped its gown around itself and turned sightless eyes towards Jack. Staring at him, calculating something. When it spoke he heard the sound of a thousand voices all speaking at once.

"We will remember you, we will collect you one day"

The figure saluted him, before disappearing.

Jacks mind reeled; the mind that had pushed his out of the way had melted into the background, yet left a faint tinge of familiarity. That mind had been in his head before and now he knew where.

He looked down into the street. Standing in full view of the window, a woman dressed all in black, stared up at him. Her blond hair waved in the wind. A long coat billowed behind her. Red tinged figures were collected by the gossamer Soul Walkers all around her, yet calmly she stood and stared up at Jacks window. Eye contact was made fleetingly before she turned and walked away. Her stiletto heels making no impression on the snow covered floor.

He returned his gaze to the moon. That once red moon was now its normal full grey colour as it shone brightly, bathing Paris with its soft glow.


	8. Chapter 8 A breif & dangerous encounter

_France 1897 Late Autumn_

She checked her internal clock, almost sunrise. The familiarity of the man who had saved her life had taken her by surprise. He should have been dead. She'd watched the Jones brothers attack him, and then a careless slip with the knife had ended his life. She knew, she'd been there, checked his pulse and closed his eyes against the rain. The kill had been confirmed and her bounty paid. So what was he doing here?

She took a slow walk back to the little town's only hotel. She was lost in her own thoughts. She was aware he was a con man, but could he pull off faking his own death? The tech she carried couldn't be fooled. He was dead. There was only one way to check.

She didn't like wasting time on things she wouldn't be paid for, but this had opened her curiosity. She'd collect her things and return. That is if the damn wrist strap worked properly. She shouldn't have stolen it from Hart, only the gods knew where he stole it from. By a series of trial and errors - mainly errors, she'd found that she could only 'port to the ship, waiting on the outside of the atmosphere, then to the correct time, but never from one time to another from here on earth.

She leaned against the gatepost to the hotel, watching the burgeoning sunrise. Tendrils of pink tickled the clouds. She was unaware of the person watching her from the window, a wicked smile of anticipated revenge on his lips.

Inside the hotel the staff was bustling around, preparing for the coming day and early risers. The night porter was being berated by the cook for letting the fires die so low. The maid, hand in front of her mouth, was trying to suppress a laugh, knowing she was the cause of his inattention. Cornelia coughed to gain their attention.

"May I trouble you for a drink? Coffee please."

The cook swiped ineffectually at the night porter and returned to the kitchen, her hands waving around as she still chuntered to herself, complaining about the hired help, and standards of the young.

The maid brought over Cornelia's coffee, the thick brown liquid coating the sides of the glass cup. A small jug of fresh cream beside it.

"What do you know of the station at the end of the town?"

Cornelia asked in heavily accented French. Though she spoke French fluently she knew that they would only remember a woman who dressed exceedingly strange and didn't speak French, a foreigner to their shores.

"That it was only built for Victoria and Albert when they did their grand tour, but it was never used. No trains go past there anymore. The real station is in the heart of town."

"They say it's haunted." The night porter spoke,

"What is?"

"The station and the house beside it. It's not though. I've been there. Last year a man came to town, riding as though running from the hounds of hell, he fell from the horse. I think the devil himself was inside him. He was having a fit, we couldn't stop him at first, but then father found the tablets. The tablets stopped the fit, but he wasn't right, we could see it in him. His soul had been taken.

"He stayed here a night, then went to the Church, didn't return until Late summer. He was still not well, he asked me to take him to the station house. We saw him three weeks later. One of the soulless had shot him. He should have died."

The maid interrupted.

"Oh I remember! He was very handsome, tall too. An American if I remember rightly. We all thought he was dead. I swear he'd stopped breathing. Then he sat up swearing at the fire. Frightened me to death."

"Did you get his name?" Cornelia was on the edge of her seat

They looked at each other then shook their heads.

"Can you find out?"

The maid nodded slowly.

"I'll be in the stable preparing the horse. It's important"

The maid scuttled away as Cornelia made her way to the rear of the hotel. For a moment she stopped. A small dot flashed in the corner of her eye. Concentrating she brought up the message.

I KNOW WHERE YOU ARE, I WILL TAKE WHATS RIGHTFULLY MINE. YOU OWE ME. I WANT IT BACK IN KIND."

_Shit_ _that's all I need._ Hart was back in town, and she knew what that meant. She turned back to the hotel and made for her room. She wasn't panicking; she would only make a stupid mistake. She rechecked the pistols, and the more unconventional weapons, her 19th century belongings stuffed in a bag. The long leather corseted coat hung from her shoulders. Gently closing the door behind her she quickly walked to the reception. The night porter still at his post his head bowed.

"Bill please" she asked

"Oh about 4 mill credits don't you think?" the familiar voice came from the porter, he raised his head. She caught a glimpse of a slumped figure in the corner. His neck at an angle no necks were ever meant to be.

"Why did you have to kill him? He was nice"

"Got bored waiting for you honey" He sauntered round the counter, his easy, I don't give a shit, walk bringing back memories of their time together.

She stood her ground, she wasn't frightened of him anymore, slightly intimidated maybe but no longer frightened.

"My name is Cornelia, remember that. So why are you here?" She tried to be casual; she could smell his pheromones, he was issuing conflicting messages. The underlying want was there, but then it always was, but overlaying revenge and plotting could be seen in his eyes.

"Really? Cornelia? That's … Different. I want you. You took what was mine by right"

"The name suited me at the time and it's stuck. You were too late to the party John, contract was signed."

"He was mine to kill. I had such a lovely plan too. And you went and killed him"

"Listen to me, he's not dead."

Hart stood so close to her, and whispered in her ear.

"I saw the report." He twisted her arm behind her back. She leaned away as best as she could. But he leaned with her, breathing heavily in her ear.

"Mademoiselle? The maid interrupted him. Relief visibly dripped off Cornelia. Hart scowled at her.

"That man you asked about?"

"The one that was shot _last_ year… yes?" Cornelia stressed the word for Hart's sake.

"It was a J Harkness Mademoiselle"

"He was shot and he survived?" Hart demanded to know. The maid looked between the two of them and nodded.

Hart released Cornelia and stepped forward towards the maid, grasping her chin and lifting it, inspecting her features. Cornelia recognized the cold smile he gave her, and whilst feeling guilty about leaving her to him, used the opportunity to leave and head for the stables.

She bustled around the stables, releasing the perception filters so that she was able to grab everything to 'port back to the ship. Unnoticed he stepped from the shadows. His boots were silent on the cobbles. A horse snorted a greeting and stamped irritably.

She heard and her head lifted sensing danger. Her knees gave way and she sprawled on the floor as he kicked the back of them.

"Hello again"

"What happened to the maid?" she asked scrambling round to face him.

"She found the night porter; I had to stop her screaming"

"Terminal?"

"Hmm. Then I remembered you." He leant down, the laser pointed straight down. It wouldn't kill her but would defiantly leave a scar. He'd given her enough of them. Under her hand she could feel the chaff from the straw for the horses. Slowly her hand closed grabbing a handful.

"I thought after your little holiday together, you would have been friends or something."

"Ha! No more than we used to be. He's still a pumped up, moralistic, self congratulating, prudish prick..." His voice drifted off remembering.

"But?" She pushed him further.

"Yeah he did have a nice one- but he was still a prick"

He leant further down and wrapped his hand around Cornelia's clenched fist.

"You've tried that before remember."

"Yeah you fell for it then too". Swiftly she brought her knee up and jabbed him in the groin before standing.

He fell backwards, landing in a pile of straw, narrowly missing the manure. Cursing her name, he stood and launched himself at her. His fists flew in fury, she easily parried them all, managing to get another kick in on an old wound. He clenched his teeth in pain.

"That was a cheap shot"

"Yep".

She reached into her jacket to pull out her own weapon, and cocked it. Nothing happened

"Dampeners hon." He smiled evilly, "Came prepared. Something Roo dreamt up. Nothing is going to work here."

She shrugged "Not your style to leave yourself unarmed."

"Who says I'm not?"

Their fight was almost a dance, they'd fought so many times before, Often with short blades for the closeness of the attack, this time the weapon of choice was what ever they could lay their hands on. . She danced backwards avoiding and then striking out at each and every opportunity. A pitch fork and broom clattered down from the storage on the wall, spooking the horses, making them rear and whiny with anxiety. Their dance then became more intense, not only avoiding each others blow, but avoiding the frightened horses stamping and bucking, threatening to kick out the stable doors.

Hart smiled momentarily before releasing his own concoction of pheromones. The once spooked horses calmed, their ears flicking backwards and forwards before slowing down and the docile look came over them.

"You utter bastard" she yelled,

She'd noticed the H'sani time bomb flickering in the corner. She struggled over to it; you had to be in the centre ring to be unaffected when it finally exploded, slowing time down allowing the user to walk down the gap between the next and now. He grabbed her arm and swung her back to him, her arm being pushed further up her back. He held her close. Then he yelled out, as she pushed her stiletto through the soft leather boot into his foot beneath. He lashed out punching her in the stomach, and then left hooked her in the face. She staggered back out if the range of the bomb. She stood and launched herself at him.

The world around her stopped. He'd disappeared. She rolled on the floor. She could smell him, he was around somewhere. A moment later she couldn't breathe properly, the sexual closeness and contact from him arousing her. His arms came out of nowhere and dragged her into the space between the seconds with him. "You're mine now"

Her eyes widened, knowing that simply because of his pheromones, right now all she wanted was him.

Hart obliged.

The weapon's ripple finally expired leaving them both breathing heavily. Hart lying on top of her, gently brushed a stray piece of straw from her hair.

"You're still a bastard Hart" she whispered.

"I know, and I still hate you for what you did back on the Axim" he kissed her hard, biting her bottom lip and drawing blood

Her lips tingled, gradually going numb. She scowled at him.

"What the fu?.." she was slurring her words. Her brain was fighting for control of her muscles, slowly her left side of her face became numb, she struggled to stand. There was no feeling at all down one side of her body. She slumped against the wall, her vision blurring as she slid slowly down the wall, to end up a heap on the floor.

He stood, watching her impassively. "Trying out a new product, poison in the lip balm, not quite sure if it'll kill you though,"

Her back arched and she started to convulse, her heals drummed on the floor,

"If you survive, look me up and let me know, I can get my money back then".

He strode out of the stables leaving her dying on the floor.

At the entrance to the hotel he crashed into a porter, all hell had broken out with the discovery of the bodies of the maid and the night porter. He collared a guest,

'There's another in the stables, might need this' he pressed a syringe into the hand of the man, who stared at it before catching on and raced towards the stable.

'Antidote' he yelled at the running mans back before he turned and walked away, smiling to himself aware of the fear and confusion he'd left behind

~~~oOo~~~

She'd opened her eyes to a cracked and yellowing ceiling. Every joint ached, and her head pounded. She was going to kill him as soon as she could. She wiggled up the bed propping herself up.

"How the hell did I get here?" she said aloud.

"Oh! You're awake? I need to know exactly what happened. Start by telling me who are you, where are you from? Who did this to you and why. And the final question for the day… what is all that stuff in the stable?"

She looked around; a man was sitting in the comfy chair by the fire. His cool façade reminded her of someone. He pushed his fringe from dark brown eyes. She scowled,

"I'm sorry but are you usually in the habit of sitting in a ladies bedroom? Who the hell are you?"

"Only one's that have been unconscious for two days, poisoned by persons unknown, and was also the last person to see the murder victims. I'm investigating the murders."

"No the murderer saw them last. You'll not catch him, he's long gone by now. So you're the local law enforcement." She flung back the sheets of the bed and attempted to wriggle out.

"No" he paused, thinking "Lets say I'm an investigator" He coloured and turned away, as she stood up, a long white night dress more apt for someone a size smaller than her in all areas.

Padding round the room, she found her clothing, and smiling to herself at his obvious embarrassment, proceeded to dress. Enjoying his embarrassment further, she asked him to pull the ties on the rear of her bodice. Her spray on trousers, showed each curve. She lifted a leg to pull on the long leather boots. She checked the pistol in each of them.

"I'm a traveler, a bounty hunter if you will, trailing someone. Some one else was trailing me. Unfortunately they got in his way."

He grabbed a pen and started taking notes. "Tell me everything, I know you're not a 'local'"

The way he said 'local' intrigued her, did he have an inkling about what was actually going on?"

"No one's going to believe this you know" she told him

"I might"

"Your funeral. I'm trailing a time agent, he's not from this planet and he's from another time. I last saw him in 1896. Dead. Yet he saved my life a couple of days ago. I was at the old station."

"He's probably an addict then. No one goes there unless they are after the drug"

"Possible" she conceded rather shocked he was taking this all in. she continued "He turned up here a year ago; looking as though hell was after him, then 3 weeks later he then turned up again, shot and dying."

"I know who he is."

She stared at him. "What?"

"A Captain Jack Harkness. I worked here when he rode into town last year. I'm also a nosy person so did a little digging on him. He came from Paris, according to the card in his pocket he was at Rue des Cauchemars." She sat down next to him. "Tell me more about this Harkness"

She listened intently whilst the journalist told her everything he had gathered about Jack, and the strange house he lived in whilst in Paris. He told her of the station masters house and the odd people that lived there.

As she stood so did he. "I'm going with you. I want more information on this"

She laughed "I'm sorry, I work alone." He followed her down stairs to the bar

"But you need me. I can help. I have access to things"

"Sorry, I'm still working alone. You'll just get in the way.'

"I'll expose you"

She raised an eyebrow.

"You'll what?"

"There's an organization in London, her Majesty is patron and sponsor, and one of our departments investigate anomalies like you. Well they call it investigation." His tone sounded dubious, as if he believed the wilder rumors of dissection.

She noted the subconscious 'our' so History was wrong; Torchwood was operating well before the agency claimed it was.

She concentrated, accessing the communication mod.

SHIP, ACCESS CODE 267012 FILE REQUIRED ON CAPTAIN JACK HARKNESS EARTH 19th and 20th CENTURY

"Right, Mr.?"

"Harrison"

"Right Mr. Harrison before we go anywhere, I need a stiff drink."

An hour later the man was leaning against the bar. His eyes were drooping. He was obviously a sleepy drunk. She reached into a pocket for the little tub of pills. Once he'd had one or two of these he'd remember only the murders here, and nothing of her, that was the way she preferred it.

The message returned.

2oth CENTURY TWO CAPTAIN JACK HARKNES' 1st:- AMERICAN DIED 1941 WWII BOMBER CRASHED. 2ND:- APPEARED JUST AFTER 1ST'S DEATH. SEVERAL TRACES OF HIM IN ONE 1941 TIME LINE. DISAPPEARS. RETURNS. SEVERAL TRACES OF HIM IN THE 20TH CENTURY AT SAME TIME. ADVISE PROTECT HIM. 19TH CENTURY ONLY ONE. APPEARED 1869. YOUR TIMEFRAME, PARIS FRANCE. ADVISE PROTECTION. BELIEVED TO BE CENTRAL TO CORE OF AGENCY.

That intrigued her. Oh well at least her things were still stacked in the stable.

20 minutes later she stomped down the corridor of the ship.

"Ship, access files on 2nd Harkness. Also want details of movements 'tween 1896 and 1898. Run bath plus I need coffee, the real stuff not that barrage of floor sweepings that you usually brew' she stripped off as she walked down to the luxurious bathroom. From the simple basics of the ship, the bathroom and the coffee were the only things that could be classed as luxurious. (Maybe even decadent). Behind a plain grey metal door, was her den, her thinking room. A large roll top bath took pride of place in the center of the room. Opposite that a large screen was placed allowing the bather to view what ever they wanted, currently it showed a report on the whereabouts of a certain Captain J Harkness as requested. On the left of the bath a large window with the most impossible garden view. Warm tiles could be felt under foot. A pot of coffee stood on a stand beside the bath. A book lay open, face down its spine bending under the stress.

She devoured the report whilst soaking in the tub, coffee in one hand part way to her lips. She felt battered and bruised, and silently cursed Hart for attempting to kill her. One day she'd return that favour.

Once dressed and fed she loaded a target place and time into the wrist strap. It was a good enough place to start as any.

~~~OoO~~~

France: Christmas Eve 1896

She appeared with a jolt, at the end of an alleyway. Pale and insubstantial red tinged figures lined the street. She ignored them she'd seen scarier things than them before; she knew the soul walkers would leave her alone. She glanced at the house. This seemed to be the one. The hairs on the back of her neck rose as a soul walker passed her. Although they ignored her, they still gave watched her, calculating, waiting even.

She caught movement in an upstairs window. She caught his eye. It _was_ him. She turned and walked away. Her stilettos made no marks on the new fallen snow, and her head in a whirl.

This one she'd keep an eye out for.

* * *

Please tell me what you think... even if its a STOP WRITING!

Thanks to Emelye14283 for the beta'ing and Angelkitty101 and of course the delectable Proffesor Herb for being a wall to bounce silly ideas off.


	9. Chapter 9 A Bad Taste of Strawberries

**Characters: Captain Jack. Oc's- Flick (ex-timeagent), Suzzane, **

**Disclaimer: It's only in my imagination. **

**Will get M rated before the end so if you like please tag as it gets flaming hard to find after!… Please feed me reviews as starving here!**

**Thank you Emelye14283 for encouraging me and reading it through and Professor Herb for listening to the mad ideas.**

_France 1897. Early February_

With the acceptance of Flicks proposal Jack had settled into a routine with Flick. Jack had seen in the New Year with Suzanne and Flick and he'd finally come into some sort of regular home life. The days were spent locked in research with him searching for a link to the Key, whilst the evenings were spent reminiscing about the agency, or regaling each other with tales of their missions. Jack even told Flick about some of the adventures with the Doctor and Rose. But he could never bring himself to talk about the final one. The events on the game station still made him shudder, the belief that they'd lost Rose and the joy of her return, the pride of his little assembled gang as they tried in vain to stop the Daleks and his eventual demise. Each night he'd faithfully take the Kohbol in an attempt to supress the dreams. . So far no one had tried to kill him, or collect money from him, but whenever he went out he could sense someone watching, waiting, looking at him, and yet he could see nothing. Despite Flick's assurances of oblivion, the wonderful milky Kohbol and the ministrations of the beautiful Suzanne, the nightmares remained. He'd had only a few nights with out waking himself screaming out, or covered in sweat. He now only slept a maximum of four hours a night. Over the past two months the nightmares had gained in ferociousness. With the coming of spring Jack looked forward to the lighter nights. It meant less time to stare into the darkness and dream.

Suzanne had increased the dosage of the sleeping draughts, but still the memories and fears crept around the closed door of his mind and intruded nightly into his sleep. Then the day came that began the waking nightmares.

He'd escorted Flick to the cathedral and listened to the sermon denouncing nearly everything Jack enjoyed. He'd waited patiently as Flick had spoken to the Clergy, inspecting the scenes of divine intervention in the stained glass windows. Fearsome gargoyles stared down at him, silently watching every move, waiting to battle the evil within.

Finally Flick bowed and returned to him.

"I know what you are thinking" Flick accused

"I'm not. Just how pretty the windows are. Religion offers me no comfort anymore. It amuses me how the older the people get, the more their thoughts turn to god or gods. It's the need to know that there is more beyond this" Jack sighed. So far he'd seen nothing to prove otherwise.

"Like you know the truth?" Flick huffed. Jack stayed silent. He knew he'd hidden is inability to stay dead well. He denied it himself so often; at times he could almost believe it.

Their walk back to the house was, for Flick an uneventful matter. Jack constantly turned; he could hear footsteps behind him, yet there was nothing but shadows. He stopped and looked up along the rooflines. Hidden in plain view the gargoyles waited, mouths open to divert the rainwater. He moved again, his eyes searching, this time he caught one moving. It wasn't the slow cumbersome thing he expected, it was fast. It jumped down on to the pavement. The cobbles cracked under its weight. It swiped at Flick pushing him aside, and bore down on Jack. A noise behind him indicated another had landed. He could hear the thump of concrete paws on the paving slabs behind. Red eyes from the gargoyle in front watched him curiously.

"You don't belong" Its voice was dusty from a thousand years of waiting.

"You are wrong. Abnormal. A living death; Evil." The creature behind pushed at him. Forcing him forward. The front gargoyle opened its mouth; its lower jaw detached itself he looked into the darkness of the open maw. And was pushed again… He fell stumbling into the blackness, falling….

His eyes snapped open unseeing. Sweat poured into them. His breathing was heavy; his heartbeat thundered through his ears. He could feel Flick kneeling besides him.

"Jack?" on the edge of his waking thoughts he could hear Flick's voice, mentally he swam towards it. But something pulled him back he turned in fear. A woman stood waiting. She was simply dressed in a white gown. Long flame hair fell down over her shoulders. Her green eyes captivated him.

_Jack look at me. Keep me hidden from him. We need each other_

"Jack, Wake up Jack" Flicks gentle call draw him back finally to the here and now.

Slowly Jacks eyes regained sight. He stared wildly around the room, till they came to rest on Flick and Suzanne.

"It's ok Jack. You're home" Suzanne's voice was gentle and hypnotic.

He stared from Flick then to Suzanne, something not quite right, not quite solid about them. He shook his head, trying to clear the fog of fear. Flick smiled, or rather his mouth smiled, it never reached his eyes. With a sense of foreboding Jack scrabbled backwards on the hard flooring. Suzanne and Flick approached him. He watched as their Jaws visibly elongated, rows of sharp teeth appeared, their incisors lengthened.

"Relax Jack. We don't want to hurt you" Flick hissed a warning

Jack reached up hoping to be able to knock one of the weapons off the racking above his head. His fingers just touched the hilt of a Pulse Jolt but try as he might he couldn't grasp it. He flailed out an arm hoping to catch one of them. He kicked out but missed. Flick grabbed his arm and leg, pinning him to the floor. He nodded at Suzanne who leant in for the bite. Jack yelped in pain as slowly the poison seeped into his bloodstream, and rendered him immobile his eyes being the only thing left that he could move.

His eyes snapped open, and he yelled out in shock. "What the hell?"

He stared at Suzanne before registering the syringe in her hand, and the weight of Flick on his legs.

"What the hell was that?"

"Jack what happened, you were acting strange on the way back. You crossed the threshold and collapsed. You were thrashing around, shouting for me" Flick's concerned face came into view.

"When did you last sleep properly… no nightmares? No Let me see"

Before Jack could reply Flick had placed both hands on either side of his head and stared deeply into Jacks eyes. In the depth of his mind he could hear scream, a door slam, with bolts being drawn, and furniture being piled against it.

Flick gently placed his hands either side of Jacks head and closed his eyes.

Inside Jacks mind was an old mansion badly in need of repair. The doors loosely hanging from their hinges, some of the windows boarded up the others covered in sheen of dust. Flick smiled to himself. For all the cover of bravado, mentally, Jack was really in a bad way. Flick stepped cautiously inside the building, and stood in the hallway. Corridors branched off in all directions. He stared at the floor; amidst the dust and spiders a well-worn path had been created. This must be where Jack retreats in on himself, where the nightmares come from.

He followed it in, on the side of the walls candles flared, flicking pale shadows in the corners. The first door was solid, with no sign of decay. He tried the handle and stepped in.

He was in a place he didn't recognise, the sound of sirens going off constantly. Several figures had their backs to him. In an instant they turned around. Involuntarily Flick stepped back. Their faces had been replaced by the horror of a gasmask. Empty round eyes looked towards him, emotionless. Each figure cocked its head and said, "Are you my mummy?" before walking towards him. Suddenly a tall figure in black stepped in between Flick and the figures. They stopped. Flick took the opportunity to leave the room and gently close the door.

He sighed again and leant against the door. A flicker of smile crossed his face, before he broke the handle, allowing the door to close but not lock.

He wandered down the corridor slowly peering in to each door. Some he left alone, others he broke the handle. Hidden within the wall he only just noticed a door. There was no handle. He ran his fingers around the edge, searching for some sort of hold, somewhere so he could use leverage to get this door open. He thought he'd found it as the tacky paper on the wall started to tare. He heard a catch of breath then rapidly diminishing footsteps. As he turned he caught a glimpse of long flame hair and a white suit disappearing into a doorway.

_So that's where she's hiding. Does Jack know?_ Flick was curious, but that would have to be left for another time. He knew what he must do now the path had been shown to him, and he wanted to know what Jack was hiding behind this door.

Finally Flick withdrew and sighed. He rose and spoke to Suzanne who bustled off immediately.

He rose from the floor and held out his hand to help Jack up.

"I'm sorry Jack, I've failed you. I believed the draughts would help you gain the oblivion you sought. I know now that the draught is not enough."

Suzanne followed them into the lounge, carrying a small box and a jug of clear liquid

"You will need these. But be warned you must not take too many. They are untried, we do not know the side affects. Suzanne is talented as all Osaka priestess were, but this is something new." Flick passed Jack the intricately carved box and a glass of the clear liquid.

"When the nightmares start take one and dissolve it in water. It needs to be drunk as it fizzes. Only take one a day, then the sleeping draught at night. You'll feel a little lightheaded at first. But these should take the nightmares away"

Jack grabbed the box and flipped open the lid. Each of the tiny pills was the colour of old blood. Jack crinkled his nose at the smell.

"Try one" Flick encouraged

Jack dropped one of the tiny button pills into a glass of water. Instantly it fizzed, the bubbles crawling up the side of the glass trying to escape.

"Down the hatch!" with nervous hands Jack screwed his face up in expectation of the foul taste.

"Strawberries! It tastes just like strawberries!" he exclaimed

"Osaka strawberries" replied Suzanne sadly

"Never heard of them but they are wonderful" Jack sat back. He felt like he was flying, every nerve tingled. He watched is shaking hands calm down. He hadn't felt like this in a long time and the feeling spread, he felt alive.

He sat back in the chair and closed his eyes in satisfaction. When he opened them again the room was dark. The lamps from outside shone their warm light through the un-curtained window. The chime of the clock shocked him, it was late on in the evening, He didn't care though; he'd slept. Nothing had invaded his mind. This time it had been true oblivion.

Flick peered around the doorway and smiled.

"Hello Sleepy. Food?"

Jacks stomach rumbled in anticipation.


	10. Chapter 10 The Da Vinci Influence

**Characters: Captain Jack. Flick,(OC's)**

**Disclaimer: It's only in my imagination. *big sigh***

**Will get M rated before the end so if you like please tag as it gets flaming hard to find after!… Please feed me reviews! **

**Thank you Anglekitty, Emelye14283 for encouraging me and reading it through, and the old proff for being a sounding board**

**Authors Note: Dreams & Memories in BOLD, internal conversations either withthemselves or others in Italics**

_France 1897. – Mid March_

"Exactly" Flick snapped his fingers together. "We can control Time, right the wrongs of an uncaring universe." Jack sat back and sighed. It was only yesterday he'd begged Suzanne secretly for a stronger dosage. A hunger was burning in his blood for the drug. She'd refused. He'd promised her the world, everything he could give, even to returning her to her home world. But those big black eyes simply stared at him in refusal. He'd taken hold of her hands and pleaded, turning them palms up to kiss them. Intending to kiss her into submission.

Then he'd ranted, his anger at her refusal, building. Could she not see that without them he couldn't help Flick? He couldn't get his wife and child back. He couldn't right the so many wrongs in his life. And it was all down to her. He'd raised his hand to her to slap her. She stood, proud, alone in the belief that this was all she was good for. When Flick had come in, and pulled Jack back from the edge of his rage, Jack had turned to Flick, and released his hand, pulling back as soon as he realised he was about to strike Flick.

It was then Jack broke down, Flick as always, had been understanding, caring, desperate to help, but on this he was immovable. He'd finally made Jack understand that he couldn't allow Suzanne to make more. It would kill her. And with her dead, the nightmares would abound unchecked and Jack would never be released from the waking hell he was constantly in.

So they did something that Jack had not done since that night on Ellis Island, when facing the Jones brothers. They got completely and utterly drunk.

~~~oOo~~~

**Jack was running, he'd spent most of his life running either from or occasionally to the scene of the crime (but mainly from). The Daleks once again chasing him down the game station corridor. He turned a corner, into another corridor, which opened out on to a beach; he stumbled and fell into the soft sand before righting himself and speeding off along the waters edge. The Daleks stopped at the edge of the metal corridor momentarily before continuing their chase. Their hollow orders were drowned out by the cry of a child. **

_**How the hell can they roll over sand, surely it gets in the way? **_**The thought fleetingly passed through his mind.**

_**They're all lies Jack, its all lies**_**. **_**Who said dreams had to make sense**_**? A voice niggled the back of his conscience.**

**He stopped, turned to face them; the weapon he was holding disappeared from his hands. "I can't die you idiots!"**

"**We. Can. Break. Your. Mind. Instead"**

**They aimed and fired…**

Jack sat bolt upright, sweat drenched him, his heart beating fast. His whole body shook, for a fleeting moment he was unsure of where he was. Familiarity was soon replaced by a hunger firing through his blood. He needed that drug; his mind wanted the oblivion Flick promised. He watched as the little tablet bobbed in the glass of water on the bedside, counting down the moments before he could drain the glass.

He drank greedily waiting for the drug to infuse into his system. Then laid back waiting; his body steadied, his mind cleared. He sighed happily and rolled over, and came face to face with the sleeping form of Flick.

In the corner of his hearing Jack heard a voice _Don't believe it._

Flick murmured 'no', his brow furrowed and anxious, before his faced changed to one of contentment as Jack slowly wiggled out of bed, eyes wide and thoughts racing.

"What the hell happened last night?" Jack asked himself. The drug defused further through his bloodstream, attacking his brain, washing over the fears of the night, he stifled a yawn.

~~~oOo~~~

"I know where the Icon is Jack. _You_ have to go and get it for me."

Jack looked up from his breakfast. Nothing has been said about the previous evening or any activities they may have engaged in. Flick returned the stare with bad grace. They both had a hangover that neither could deal with, and to top that the nightmares were escaping Jacks mind. The whole household were now getting his nightmares in their own dreams. He had barely slept for the past two weeks, unless he was incapable of thought, and without the assistance of alcohol he was looking at a month's constant work 24 hours a day before getting into that state. So instead he tried to immerse himself in research. He had disregarded Flicks warning, and started taking the tablets Suzanne made up to three times a day, then fighting the oncoming sleep and the waking nightmares. The previous two weeks had been a strain on him, Flick and Suzanne. All three of them looked haggard and tired, but Suzanne even more so. She was drained and lethargic, not wanting to do anything any more. Jack cast a glance over to Flick, who simply shook his head, as if to say 'Don't ask'.

"Where is it Flick and why me?" Jack sighed

Flick disappeared for a moment, and then wandered back carrying an old dusty book. The leather was old and cracked, the binding on the side had so many break lines, it was touch and go if it fell apart.

"This" Flick waved the book "Is a journal from Da Vinci. He painted a Black Madonna Icon. I have proof now to believe he painted the original woman, more than likely from either life, or from a conversation with one of the disciples."

Jack held up his hand. "Hang on Da Vinci? The disciples? Hundreds of years difference between the two."

Flick smiled knowingly. "You never researched the Agencies history did you?"

Jack yawned- "Sounds… boring …may be something for me to do to pass the time when I'm desperate by the sounds of it"

Flick ignored Jacks sarcasm

"I couldn't get to the core of the agency and its set up, but one of the very first agents was one Leonardo Da Vinci. Long story short, he travelled through a lot of Earth history searching for the Key. I think he found it before getting stuck here on Earth. He left loads of clues about the key and its whereabouts; it's just a matter of finding the final ones now."

Jack held up his hand again.

"You're talking about Earths archetypical Renaissance man, a polymath, the genius, who came up with designs for helicopters, artillery weapons camera's all that sort of stuff. He revolutionised thinking about geometry, astronomy, engineering, and anatomy, Science. All that other stuff too"

Flick nodded patiently,

"Jack, where do you really think he got the ideas from? He noted this lot down so he wouldn't forget the world as _**we**_ know it, not as Earth 16th century"

Jack simply shook his head disbelieving "Lets get back to the Madonna, we can discuss history later"

Flick turned the journal round; inside various pictures dotted the pages. Jack recognised the helicopter sketched in a corner, in another a closed flower, various things scattered the page. Flick turned over another page; on this page Jack saw a miniature sketch of something that made his heart rise. A simple line drawing of a woman, but every line stood on its own making the woman so lifelike, so real, he wanted to reach out, take her from the page hold her and whisper her name… he looked across to where the figure was looking, within swirls of partially erased pencil he could see the hard lines of a familiar box. The detail so intricate it was almost a black and white photograph. He leant forward closer to inspect. He could see the doors were open, inside were two figures he recognised so well, the black jacket and close cropped hair, the somewhat surprised smile, and in one hand a Banana, the other hand stuffed into a pocket. The other figure partially turned towards the door, part concentrating on the overcrowded console, yet still his eyes were turned towards the observer, a concerned smile on his face. Jack breathed out the words, as a tear rolled down his cheek.

"I miss you both."

Flick watched him a moment, squirreling the information away for future use.

"Look in the middle of the next page at the building, and the notation"

"Tarascon - What's that picture?" he pointed towards a creature that took up half the page. Large impossible wings folded along its back. Its body was so un-aerodynamic, with its huge chest cavity, short forelegs, and yet amazingly powerful hind legs. It reminded Jack of an oversized rabbit. Its scaly tail wrapped itself around its hind legs. Its neck was long and elegant. Its face was almost horse-like, yet its eyes bore the most intelligent expression Jack had ever seen on an animal.

"Dragon – Flight of fancy I reckon, they're mythical creatures. This planet is obsessed with the damn things. They never existed anywhere in the known universe. I do know that Leo did have a fancy for the wine and practical jokes. He managed to convince several courts that he had a dragon in a box. Terrified the life out of all of the courtiers and the king.

"Look a great percentage of these pictures in the journal relate to the Key in some form. That building is repeated several times throughout the journal, as are the sketches for the Icon," Flick switched page after page, so Jack could see the gradual building up of the final picture.

"Look there she is sat with the child on her knee. Through the window over her shoulder is a church. It sits on an island. Could it be Notre Dame or another Religious building, or even just a symbolic thing noting the division of the church at the time? The child is holding something, but I can't tell what. If I can see the actual painting I can finalise the clues... Get the key and…"

"… And I can save E'tannia and Ell"

Exactly" Flick snapped his fingers together. "We can control Time, right the wrongs of an uncaring universe." Jack sat back and sighed. Again Flick nodded. "They will be saved, and you can go home, you will never have lost the coup, Viktor and the others would never have died, and you would have never been stuck in the time loop."

We need to get you ready for a trip Jack. You're going to the countryside. I have a contact that has the painting.


	11. Chapter 11 The Flying Freek

**Characters: Captain Jack. Flick, Phire, (OC's)**

**Disclaimer: It's only in my imagination.  
**

**Will get M rated before the end so if you like please tag as it gets flaming hard to find after!… Please feed me reviews! **

**Thank you Emelye14283 for encouraging me and reading it through, and the old proff for being a sounding board**

**Authors Note: Dreams & Memories in BOLD, internal conversations either with themselves or others in Italics**

France 1897: Mid March

Three days later Jack was in the saddle plodding along the old trade roads. He let the horse do the work, he wasn't exactly comfortable being perched high on an animal that was known to be flighty and scared of its own shadow, he preferred to be in control, but he tried to relax and let the beast do it work. The landscape sauntered by; he'd stayed the previous night in a small inn in an even smaller village that had grown around the trade paths that crossed France, eventually finding their way into Paris. The early morning start was beginning to tire him. His backside complained endlessly, the saddle not being the most comfortable thing in the world. He let the horse pick its own pace, which was more of a lazy saunter, allowing Jack to take in the beautiful spring countryside. He breathed deeply, allowing the mid afternoon fresh air to invigorate him. The steady clip of the horse soon lulled him into a relaxed state of mind. He closed his eyes momentarily, listening to the gentle call of the birds and insects. He'd not heard anything like this for a long time, it reminded him of home. A knot formed in his stomach. Home …it wasn't there anymore. There was nothing, no one to go back to. Grief threatened to overwhelm him as he fought to gain control of his emotions.

Suddenly the horse beneath him tensed, its flight already programmed into its head, the horse reared, he struggled to hold on and reassure the horse as it returned its hooves to the ground. It danced awkwardly to one side, snorting its fear. He looked down; a grass snake had slithered out of the verge, frightening the horse. Leaning down Jack patted the side of the horse's neck, calming it eventually.

"Silly old thing, it's just a snake."

He paused; he had a feeling something was missing, he cocked his head listening. The horse's ears flicked back and forth; it too was listening. There was silence, no bird noises and no insect noises chirruping in the long grass. The evening light faltered, darkening as the seconds wore on. Jack looked skyward towards the one constant in his so-called life. The thick crescent moon seemed closer than it should be, he could just make out the sea of tranquillity. The place that, centuries into the future he would be living for a time, creating the biggest shakedown that the agency had ever known. He smiled at the memory. The fun that himself, Hart, Roo and Steele would have creating the false history, setting up a bizarre cult and bringing down the richest conman that Earth had ever known. A classic con breaking a serial con, which would eventually all trail back in a circle and break the hold the man, had over the Earth. He watched as several shooting stars blazed a trail against the darkening sky. One broke off as the rest disappeared into the moon. If he had agreed to the mods to enhance his sight he would have seen the explosion lifting the horns of the crescent, as part off the moon shot off into space, narrowly missing the ships hiding against the dark side of the moon. Ships that would land and set up watch stations. Unseeing eyes trained on him, watching him, and waiting for the right moment to take him again. Dust settled back down, creating an eerie blue moon.

The one that had broke off its destructive path hurtled towards the Earth. He held his ears expecting the loud sonic boom as it pierced the atmosphere, but silence prevailed. Overhead the meteorite soared, before crashing into the ground a few miles from him. He was tempted to go and look at it. The lack of noise suggested to him that it was not natural but more of Xcelite origin. They were the only ships that could soundlessly pierce any protective atmosphere. The agency had used them often enough in pulling off the coups and then when he really needed to leave planet quickly.

His task at hand was more important. He had to get to the town today and return back towards Paris and Flick with the painting by tomorrow afternoon. He knew any longer and he would be in serious trouble. He only had enough of the Khobol tablets to last 2 more days. Suzanne had been reluctant to give him more only telling him it would be too dangerous for her to make anymore so quickly. He had no idea what she meant by that, but took it on trust, and had carefully rationed himself.

Within ten minutes of watching the shooting stars the dull twilight returned. The dust had settled and the moon returned to a more normal colour. The surrounding countryside erupted in the sound of birdsong and insects. He felt the horse tense again, then it bolted; Jack was just about able to hold on, gripping the side of the horse with his knees as he was being thrown around. He finally gained his balance whilst leaning along the horse's neck, the sweat from the horse flying back and stinging his eyes. He managed to turn his face to see what the horse was running from. In the distance, gradually gaining on them he could see a darkening cloud of dust. Sharp red flashes could be seen emanating from the cloud. He'd only heard of these clouds, and never on Earth. The cloud was a living natural metallic organism. As the cloud rolled over the verges of the road, trees burst into flame. A harsh chattering noise could be heard. Thousands upon thousands of hard wing cases beating the air, sparking as the shear mass of the metallic cases hit another.

"Fire beetles!"

He urged the horse on faster and faster. But still the strange cloud gained ground. Pushed in front of it was a choking oily smell. The horse panicked further before stumbling. Unable to regain its stride the horse fell, rolling over and over. Jack only just managed to jump away before becoming crushed beneath it. The poor horse screamed in agony as it tried to get up, its hind leg broken. Jack turned; dying by fire beetle was no way to go for neither man nor beast. He withdrew the pistol Flick had provided him in case of 'emergency', aimed and fired. His aim was wide of the mark and missed the horse; the beetles were gaining ground, destroying everything in their way. He concentrated, and fired again. This time the bullet went true, the horse fell dead. The bullet had gone straight through its brain. Still grasping the pistol he ran hell for leather, sheer adrenalin pushing him faster and faster, he knew he'd pay the price soon enough. He crossed the field, trying to get out of the clouds way, but it turned with him, advancing, burning a trail behind it. Within the chattering of the wing cases he could hear a familiar cry.

Still running, he risked looking behind. What he saw stopped him dead in his tracks. In the centre of the cloud, borne aloft by the beetles was a small child. Her hands were outstretched, reaching for him. Her once brown curls were now tendrils of fire. Her beautiful eyes full of pain. Her cry heartbreaking,

"Daaaadddddyyy where are you? Help us?"

Jack stumbled over the ridges of ploughed soil, before managing to right himself, tears rolled down his cheeks, his mind and heart awash with grief. He risked another look back. The cry came again.

"Daaaaaddddyyyyyyy!"

He stumbled and fell, his outstretched hands dug into the soft ground. He could smell fresh soil mixed with the stench of oil and flame. The fire beetles fell on him. Their oil covered him. The beetles landed on him momentarily, and then flew off each one nipping him as they did. A thousand tiny bites each stung as oil seeped into his skin. A spark generated by the beetle's carapaces finally set him alight. The pain made him scream out; beetles crawled in his mouth then out. He tried to rise; his movements fanning the flames of his clothing. The agony and heat constricted his muscles rooting him in position. For a moment he could feel the cracking of his skin, smell the stench of his own burning flesh as it assailed his nose. With one final gasp he screamed.

The smell of meat cooking assailed his nostrils; a scream shook him awake. He sat up suddenly, and looked round. The scream had been him; the horse was plodding past a smoke house. Freshly smoked ham and bacon were being taken out of the building into the little house beside it. The horse was still lazily plodding through the countryside. There were no Fire beetles around him. Birds swooped overhead; their joyful song could be heard. Others sat in trees declaring their intentions to woo any female bird passing with the promise of a mighty fine nest. He was not on fire, there was no child, and he was still alone. He swivelled in the saddle; there was nothing behind him except the dusty road. In the near distance he could see a church tower. He reached into the saddlebag and retrieved the map Flick had given him. This was the church where the painting was held. He had ample money to buy the painting, and if the reverend refused to sell. He had the tools to come back and steal it if needs be.

He first noticed it as he held the map aloft to fold it back into the tiny square it once was.. Origami had never been one of his strong points. After two attempts there were so many creases he knew he'd end up following a crease line instead of a road line. As he opened it out to try once more, he noticed how his hands would continually shake, almost indiscernibly at first, but the more he watched them the more noticeable the shake became.

"Must be overtired" he told the horse. It flicked its ears back lazily listening to him.

He checked the lowering sun; it would soon be time to take another tablet. He stuffed his hand into his pocket to remove the delicate pillbox. He would need one tonight, one in the morning and tomorrow evening then again the next day. 5 as long as he had 5 he should be all right. Carefully he opened the pillbox; counted them. He counted again. 3. There were only three remaining. Panic rose, he needed these. The waking nightmare he'd just gone through was evidence of that. He'd been aware of a nagging need to take the tablets that had been with him most of the day, yet he'd tried to control himself and not give in to the need.

He urged the horse out of its lazy plod and towards the church in the distance, the need increasing with every step the horse took.

~~~oOo~~~

The horse carried Jack gently into the little town, towards the only hostel. The long drive curved through woodland. Someone had raised lamps and hung them from overhanging tree branches to light the way.

His almost imperceptible tremors had escalated into full blown body jolts. He sat there shivering as if he was bitterly cold, yet the warmth of the evening wrapped its arms around him. The horse could sense that something was wrong with its passenger; yet strangely the animal was not frightened. It sensed an underlying feeling in the man, one of fear tinged with a small blue hope. A hope that the animal knew would never be borne out in one lifetime. So the horse's only aim became to get him to more strange humans, where there, they may be able to look after this even more strange man. In that case the horse knew exactly where to go.

Once into the woodland the silence became eerie, there was no birdcall or insects or even fox barks. It was completely silent. The horse's ears flicked back and forth. Jack took all his concentration to fight down the desperate need searing through his blood stream.

A dark shadow fell over them then rose out of the sky. A smell of blood trailed behind it. A thump on the road ahead drew Jacks attention. He climbed down from the horse and slowly approached the lump in the road. Closer inspection revealed it to be the mangled remains of a sheep. Its throat had been torn out, and it was missing a leg.

A harsh primal screech came out of the sky; hurtling towards Jack the thing stretched out its claws and reached for him. Pain blossomed down one arm and across his shoulder, as he attempted to duck out of the way. The thing jinked and soared between the trees before turning again aiming at him again.

The horse simply stood to one side, hiding under a tree. Impassively watching, disregarding the site before it. Jack was sent sprawling across the floor as the thing attacked again. A disappointed screech rent the air. It was then something from inside his head took control over his movements. He limped back to the horse and dragged from the saddlebag the pistol Flick had given him for emergencies. He could feel a tingling sensation in his arm slowly travelling across his body. In the depths of his mind he heard a voice.

_I am not coming all this way to let some sodding poisonous flying freak kill you Harkness._

He was turned to face the thing; his arm rose of its own volition, his finger tightened around the trigger and he fired at the thing as it wheeled around. The shot must have caught it as it tumbled to the ground.

Jack managed to lever himself back on the horse, his arm bloodied and useless. He rested it in his lap wrapping the reigns around his hand. He clicked the horse forward. It broke into a gentle trot, Jack doing all he could, as the poison from the claws coursed through his muscle, to stay on the horse.

~~~oOo~~~

It was close to midnight before the horse finally stopped in the courtyard of a small hotel. The horse snorted a greeting to the stable boy who came rushing out, pulling on a jacket to ward against the nights chills. The horse waited patiently as he reached out to hold the reigns. Jack sat ramrod stiff, gripping the reigns tightly, his eyes staring into the distance.

"Sir?"

No reply

"Sir?" The stable boy placed his hand on the riders' thigh. Hollow eyes looked down at him

"It's in the trees"

"Sir? Are you alright sir?" The boy's voice radiated concern

"It's in the trees, its coming!" With that Jack let out an almighty sigh and fell forward over the horse's neck once again.

The boy panicked and yelled behind him for help.

"Father! Father!"

Jack rose slightly, he spat out a mouthful of the horses mane.

"You need to arm yourselves" His eyes rolled back and the convulsions started.

The boy only just managed to catch him as he slid from the horse, and cradling his head laid him on the floor.

From round the corner an elderly man wandered. The pitchfork he held still had clumps of horse manure on.

"Father! Help me!"

With out a rush in him the old man sauntered over to the rapidly convulsing Jack on the floor.

"Watch 'is tongue, don't need 'im swallering it, he's gotta have some medicine somewhere 'bout 'im"

He slapped Jack a couple of times waiting for a response. But nothing happened. He finally routed through the saddle bag. He found the little pill box squirreled away in corner and whistled.

"In all my life, this is fancy, not seen one of these in a long time"

He removed a tablet and forced it into Jacks mouth and grabbing a bucket of water and gently poured some into his mouth. He spilled more than went in, but what little did go in helped. The tablet fizzed and the essence seeped into Jacks bloodstream.

It was as they turned him on his side they noticed the deep tares in his skin. His coat and shirt tattered.

"Aye lad we need to stop the poison now or all that we've just been through is a waste. We need 'bout a bucket full"

"Bucketful of what?"

"'oss piss. It'll sting 'im a lot but it's the only thing I know that'll cure that poison""

~~~oOo~~~~

He woke staring at the stars. He was wet; he had a slowly healing pain in his shoulder and back, and a rank smell around him. Two worried faces peered down at him.

"Are you with us sir?"

Sitting up Jack looked from one face to another. The younger of the two smiled worriedly.

"Why am I wet and why do I smell?" he finally asked

"Ah that'll be the 'oss piss. Best thing handy for that particular poison, mixes wi' blood and stops t'rot"

"t'rot?"

The older man rolled his eyes and repeated himself slowly

"the rot"

"Ah… you're not French."

"Let me guess it's me accent that gave it away?" the old man held out a hand to help Jack up.

"That was the main clue."

"Sheffield, England… mostly"

"How mostly?" Jack was cautious, there was something familiar about this mans manner. He reminded him of Joseph back on Ellis Island.

"Truthfully? 135 years on this back water and another 45 somewhere out there."

The old man swept his hand out over the star laden sky.

"Bit like you Mister 'arkness… if that is actually your name." The accent disappeared.

"No one is like m… what the hell was that noise?"

The gravely cry of the beast that had attacked him rang out across the stable yard. A shadow crossed the moon.

"That thing.."

"Pteranodon"

"That pteranodon attacked me…What? How the hell did that get here?"

Jack was wide eyed, as in the middle of the stable yard, a smallish winged beast landed. The stable boy edged towards it, his hands outstretched, something lying in his palm. As he approached the beast raised its beak to sniff the air.

Jack shook his head trying to clear an unseen fog. It was a flying dinosaur, it should have been here maybe 65 million years earlier not here, not now and defiantly not eating out of the stable boys hand. He'd not seen a dinosaur for well 65 million years, after they followed the asteroid and crashed after someone miscalculated the vortex field by two decimal points.

"Good source of protein on that, muscles a bit stringy though. Tastes like Chicken" he mused aloud

The old man looked at him

"Long story. What's he feeding it?" Jack, despite himself was curious.

"Chocolate" replied the old man. "Usually prefers mutton, but when it's been a good girl it gets chocolate"

"Good? The thing attacked me!"

"You were on her territry, she thinks you smell bad, could be your pherymones. You agents are always using them t'confuse pepple. She's protecting us" the man's accent shifted back to Yorkshire.

The thing half hopped half crawled towards Jack, sniffing the air for the taste of him.

It backed him against the wall; he could smell old blood on its breath mixed with the heady scent of chocolate. He felt simultaneously sick and dizzy. A mix of the drug and poison conflicting within him, the world around him swam, he struggled to stay upright. The last thing he heard as the world around him turned black was -

"Now what in the world are we going to do with you Mister 'arkness?"


	12. Chapter 12 DNA

_France: 1897 Mid March_

_The thing half hopped half crawled towards Jack, sniffing the air for the taste of him._

_It backed him against the wall; he could smell old blood on its breath mixed with the heady scent of chocolate. He felt simultaneously sick and dizzy. The world around him swam, he struggled to stay upright. The last thing he heard as the world around him turned black was -_

"_Now what in the world are we going to do with you Mister 'arkness"_

_Jack… Jack…_ the voice was clear and familiar; he opened one eye and rapidly closed it. The bed was comfortable, and he was hungry. Giving to a curiosity he flung back the bedclothes and swung his legs round to get off the bed. A feeling not dissimilar to pins and needles swamped his lower half as he stood. He swayed, and yelled out as the pain shot up his legs into his back. He stepped forward trying to make the feeling go away in the mistaken belief that doing something would encourage the flow of blood.

_Jack don't the poison is affecting you. You have parethesia, your neurons are shot. _

He stepped forward again in the hope that activity would gradually remove the pain. Both legs gave way and his head bounced off the edge of the windowsill as he fell, unable stop himself. In a daze he lay on the floor; he noticed a shaft of sunlight creating patterns on the wooden floor. He watched as the motes of dust danced in the air currents. Slowly and elegantly they swirled and bobbed in time to their own tune.

_Jack you fool! Do you want to spend the rest of your existence unable to move? _ The voice in his head admonished him. Still lying on the floor he watched the blue motes of light dance and swirl in an ever increasing speed. They gradually moved upwards coalescing into a figure, no more than a foot high. He eyed it warily. It looked like him, yet wasn't him. The spiky cropped hair, the trousers belted and braced, sand coloured boots, blue shirt with sleeves rolled up covered a white undershirt A noticeable patch of blood over his heart. The figure turned round checking itself over.

"You're me"

_No I'm still me, this is just a future vision of you, your ego is enough that you might actually listen to yourself. You never listened to me before_.

"I look good"

_Gods almighty Jack! Listen to me_

Jacks attention wandered as he could sense a lecture coming on. The sunlight was making interesting patterns on the floor. He heard a stamp of a foot then caught the figure exploding outwards in a blur of blue lights. Again they coalesced into a figure, this time a woman; her dark hair fell onto her shoulders. She was completely dressed in black. Black trousers hugged her figure, a black Jacket hung loosely from her shoulders. As she smiled the gap in her teeth and beautiful large hazel eyes gave her an air of innocence, until Jack looked deep into those eyes and saw years of pain echoing through them. He glanced down towards the gun in her hand.

"Now that's interesting" He told the figure

_Would you listen to me? Flicks poisoning you… Stop thinking about getting into this ones knickers.!_

"Why? You're pretty"

_I'm trying to find someone you will actually listen to! Ah got it._

Again the figure exploded outwards and returned to a man. Jacks attention was captured immediately. He was immaculately dressed, his dark shirt hidden beneath a pinstriped buttoned waistcoat, matching trousers pressed perfectly. The rolled back sleeves furthering his intention to ensure a job done. Jack watched his face; that perfect face, scowling down at his feet, and then looking back almost as if gazing into the past. Jack noticed a scratch on his check, healing slowly. The figure hoisted an automatic rifle over his shoulder. Jack had only seen those weapons before in old movies and museums. He wanted to listen to this man forever, to watch him, and breathe him in.

_Now I've got your attention._ The voice was rich, haunting, amazing.

"Who are you?" Jack asked

_My name is not important. The fact I'm here is. I'm to protect you, make sure you follow the path. Listen. Flick, he's insane, he's importing his memories, dreams into your_…

"Flick is my friend" Jack interrupted angrily "He's helping me"

_What? He's helping you go mad? We need you to be sane. He's turning you into an addict. Those tablets they're drugs that…_

"That I need to stop the nightmares.. I can't do this forever"

_Jack, Flick wants the key; he wants your 'gift'._

Jack snorted "He can have it"

_He wants your immortality to…_

Jack reached out angrily, and slammed his hand down over the figure, dispersing the light, a wail of frustration heard in his head. He lay there for half an hour before the pins and needles gradually worked their way out of his body.

~~~oOo~~~

Midmorning found him walking amongst the dead in the graveyard. He was waiting for the reverend to attend to service. The old man noticed him and curtly motioned for him to join the congregation. Jack sighed and sat at the back of the small congregation. Partially listening, partially gazing around the inside, and taking in the architecture, the stained glass, the exits and bolts on all the doors.

He noticed several of the ladies turning in their seats to look at him. He turned on his most charming wicked smile, causing them to blush and turn away, fanning themselves from the onset of a sudden localised heat. That is all except one, she had come in late and sat in the very back of the church; watching him constantly. He could feel her eyes taking him in. He turned and smiled at her. She winked and returned the smile before standing and turning to walk out of the church. It was then he realised she was the woman he had seen looking up at his window, the night the soul walkers took Viktor.

The service droned to a close, one by one the women Jack had smiled at passed by, again watching him, eyes full of curiosity and desire. The reverend stood by the vestry door waiting for Jack to join him.

"I know what you're here for" he told him

"I have the money for your parish as requested"

"Why sit through one of the most boring services I can deliver Jack?"

Jack silently shrugged

"Is it redemption for old sins or forgiveness for new ones you are yet to commit? You're not like my flock. Each one is willing to denounce every perceived sin of their neighbour but unwilling to declare their own. You open yourself to the world, and the world has to take you as it finds you. You feel guilt over many things, yet repent nothing; you did what you had to do. I think Gods soldier has a lot of work in front of him before he can feel totally at peace."

"I am not God's soldier, I am my own, and the gods long since abandoned me." Jack huffed.

The reverend smiled.

Their walk had taken them outside the church to the rear of the large stained glass window. The reverend looked up at it. A Knight of old was stood proud. In one hand he held a shield, in the other hand a short sword; the style of which Jack had never seen before, the end had split into four and a green light emanated from it.

"This man used to be our guardian, it was said he would come back one day, and pass the key on; we're still waiting for that time. Faith is a wonderful thing Jack. You need to have faith in yourself and your friends. They didn't abandon you, they just didn't understand."

Jack stared up at the painting of the knight on the glass. The shield was raised up almost covering the knight's face. The icon on the shield itself screamed at Jack. It was a cross, made from the double helix of a unique DNA strand; it was one that he'd recognise anywhere in the universe. The double helix was split at each end of the twist and additional to the pairs of Adenine, Thymine, Cytosine and Guanine were two further nucleotides all which pointed one species; a Time lord.

The Reverend smiled at Jacks realisation.

"The man has saved this planet many times and in many guises. You are part of him as much as he is a part of you. With out either of you the other cannot exist. I am now an old man and have seen many odd things, but you are different. You need to trust the fire in your heart and head Jack. You have yet to recognise the gift you have been given. Use it wisely, but don't ever be afraid to use it. You will have to make the ultimate sacrifice often and frequently. You are the guardian now. The protector has to fight his own battles."

The reverend motioned to a stone set in the wall directly beneath the feet of the pictured knight.

He grabbed Jacks hand and forced it against the stone. Jacks knuckles scraped across the ancient wall, and a drop of blood formed, only to be wiped against the now prominent stone.

The stones slid away, revealing a rolled canvas. An old spider guarded its home until the breeze blew gently across the web, sending him scuttling into another corner. Jack looked at the Reverend.

"It's yours now. Do as you will. Be aware of the choices you make Jack. Out of those choices will come either chaos or change. The fire, the watcher and the saint will help you but the choices are yours alone. Now if you excuse me I have to prepare for a funeral"

The stones slid silently back into place. The marker was truly invisible. Jack looked up at the knight.

"This is your bloody fault" He told it. He turned and sat down on a large stone sarcophagus. His back was to the window and taking in the warm sun. He gazed around the graveyard; several headstones had fresh flowers placed beside them. Large St Michealmass daisies nodded in the warm breeze.

"I don't want to do this at all." He sulked aloud.

"So don't" A clipped voice replied

Jack turned there was no one there.

"Great. I'm going mad."

"You're not you know. More like dreaming."

Jack heard a sound that went straight through his eardrums. A long drawn out scratching, similar to claws going down glass. Then a crunch as footsteps got closer to him. He felt a weight on his shoulder. He turned and looked round into the eyes of the knight on the window.

"I know your eyes. You're the 'Doctor' are you my doctor or another?"

The glass figure thought.

"I've not met you yet, but I know of you."

"I have so many questions"

"I have too many answers, none of which relate to you or your situation. It's a time thing. If I told you it would send time all wobbly."

"Thought as much"

"I need your hand, just a drop of your blood"

The cold glass hand wrapped itself around his wrist; a shard of glass sprang out of the knight's finger. He raised it to draw it across Jacks fore arm. Jacks mind slammed back into his head, as something stepped forward. From the inside of his own skull he watched impartially as something else controlled his movements. His arm was waved around trying to stop the glass knight from scoring a line down and across his wrist. He watched detached as he struggled. A glass hand was placed against his temples.

Suddenly there were three of them inside his head.

"It's a little crowded in here" a woman's voice complained

"It's defiantly cosy" The familiar knight replied

"I like cosy. Who the hell are you woman and why are you in my head?" Jack yelled silently

"Jack Shushhhh. Behave. Grief if I knew you were this bad I'd wouldn't have bothered getting off the window"

Jack could hear a murmur as the knight and the woman whispered in the corner of his mind.

"I'm still here" he called. They ignored him

"Hey if it's about me can I at least join in?"

Nothing but the constant susurrus from the voices in his head.

Finally he opened his eyes. He checked his wrist. A tiny scratch could be seen he was healing already. He gazed back up at the knight on the window. There was something different about the eyes. The icon on the shield whilst still a cross-formed from two DNA strands, they were no longer recognisable as Time Lord.

The DNA strands played on his mind all the way back to his horse. The old man stood waiting for him, his horse saddled up patiently waiting.

"I'm sorry 'bout the Pteranodon" Mister 'arkness. She was a little eager to protect. She sometimes forgets where she is, but Boy is training her up. She'll soon be right. Please don't tek 'er away" The old man begged, "she only teks the old or sick sheep"

Jack simply stood in front of the old man and smiled.

"I'll make sure she doesn't get taken, gods knows how I'll do that but she'll be safe here for a while, I'm sure there'll be a place for her somewhere."

He stuffed his hand into his pocket and withdrew his little box of pills. There were still two left. He gazed at his hands, so far he could see no shaking, but he had a lot of ground to cover if he was to get to Flick before he ran out.

Half way down the long wooded road a realisation hit him. The knights DNA strand had changed... The Knights eyes were no longer the Doctors.

They were his; he was now the image in the Glass.


	13. Chapter 13 Distant Future Memory

France: 1897 Mid March

The horse was thundering down the road like a thing possessed. This was the second horse he'd stolen in a bid to get back to Paris. The hunger rode him hard… he needed to get back. Get away from the image in his memory. No way was he staying on this backwater little planet to be its knight protector. He had plans, He had a life all mapped out he could do even more now that his life was extended…

…well it wasn't really he still had moments of death, but staying dead was the nub of the problem. The horse stumbled, before regaining its feet.

If you run it to death you'll have a long walk back, we'll be dead before you get to the outskirts of Paris

"I'm ahead of the game there; YOU'LL be dead not me. I'll be fine!"

He's manipulating you. He's implanting his memories ,and tampering with your own. You need me;- unfortunately **we** also need the key."

His curiosity was piqued

"Why?"

_The agent of the core didn't tell me, but_ a_pparently you will need it one day. It's like a start key. The core doesn't want someone else to get it. He has his reasons._

The voice in his mind went quiet for a momentWe're being followed

"I know"

Its that woman again

"I know, she's harmless though"

_Are you sure?_

"I'm sure that if she wanted to kill me I would have been dead several times over by now"

He reigned in the horse and waited. The horse glad of the rest, stood panting, the sweat dripping down its nose and on to the floor. It flicked an ear angrily. The woman reigned in next to him. Her horse nuzzled his in unspoken encouragement; then eyed him up. If horses could talk he knew this one would have called him a very rude name.

"What do you want?"

She shrugged "Just curious about you."

"Curiosity killed the cat you know"

She looked at him "Do I look like a cat? I _can_ look after myself." she pulled back the edge of her jacket, showing off the pulse pistol, wincing slightly at the movement. Her shoulder still ached from the beating Hart had given her.

"I take it that's not simply for show. Why are you following me?"

"You've piqued my curiosity. For someone who should be deader than a doornail you're looking well"

"You faced the soul walkers at Christmas, why did they not mark you?" he asked,

"'s this magic aura of mine. You save my life, so I'm returning the favour, take some advice and stay away from him,"

She took off her hat and shook out her hair, before raising the hat to block the path of the sun. "Its about 4, you should be back there by 10 tonight. Try not to kill the horse. I mean it Jack stay away from him, he's not firing on all cylinders". She wheeled her horse around and trotted it back down the path from where she came. A gust of wind blew the dust from the road up towards him, and shielding his eyes he only just saw her disappear, her red shoes being the last to vanish in the transport beam.

Just audible from the distance came the heavy toll of the bells from the churches informing the masses of the hour. He hated that noise, it always took him back to his first days as a rookie agent.

~~~oOo~~~

**He was sat with his mother and step father in the kitchen, all three watching the strange, heavily cloaked man pace the kitchen floor. His breather mask obscured his features, his voice synthesised beyond recognition. In the distance the dock bell clanged, a lonely sound. A sound of sorrow and leaving, He'd always hated the noise, even more so since it had happened. The man stopped at the old worn tourist poster of a young child advertising the benefits of living on Boshane. They saw his shoulders shrug as he snorted disbelief at the incredulity of the lies. There were no benefits. This planet was so far away from the centre of the government that it was frequently raided by slavers **

"**That's Deoc" his mother told the agent proudly.**

"**That's a name I've not heard in a long time" replied the stranger distantly.**

"**It's an ancient name from our forefathers, it's out of fashion now" Deoc sat there and rolled his eyes. He hated the poster, reminding him constantly of a time before his brother was taken. The stranger nodded.**

"**I'm here at the request of the core of the agency"**

"**You mean the Highers?"**

"**No. higher than that, this agency is beyond the government"**

"**He's been chosen to attend to the agencies and learn a 'trade' there." The strange man told them whilst still staring at the poster.**

"**No he's too young" his mother replied**

"**That is not a problem" **

"**His grades are poor"**

"**Again not a problem we want his ability to think around things"**

"**We can't afford the mods you people seam to insist that all agents have"**

"**Not a problem, he has a sponsor all sorted out"**

"**Its almost harvest time he'll be needed to assist"**

"**You have plenty of assistance on the farm"**

**They continued in this vein for an hour or more. Each excuse his mother thought of, the agent countered. **

**Deoc held his breath. He wanted to get off this planet, but not go into the agency. Everyone knew that Time Agents had a limited lifespan. They burnt out before they hit their 40's leaving a childlike shell of the person they had been before. All mods and no idea of regular life, their own body clocks had become disorientated, their minds blown away by the power and the actions they had often taken to complete their missions. There was rumour of a planet off in the far reaches of the universe where these people would be held, often against their will. Holding was no place for regular people, padded cells and countless re-conditioning for the ones who could embrace the oblivion of the mindless and pulse pistols for the ones who couldn't. As a counter measure agents would often would 'disappear' or become rogue, selling what they knew to the highest bidder. He shuddered at the thought. He felt he was being watched and gazed up into the impassive face of the breather mask. **

"**You can't take him he's all I have left" his mother sniffed, in an uncharacteristically emotional outburst. His step-father placed a gentle hand on hers comforting her. **

**The synthesised voice sighed. "I need to talk to you alone" His step father turned to look at him, dismissing him with a glance. Jack stomped outside with bad grace, slamming the door just enough for it to bounce open a crack. He smiled to himself and sat down beside the crack listening to every word said.**

"**Please don't take him, He's all I have left" his mother repeated.**

"**I'm sorry, I have to. I have ensured that you will be well looked after…Please check your credits"**

**A silence except for the tapping of keys whilst one of them accessed their credit accounts. The two of the gasped.**

"**This is more money than we have ever heard of! You are not buying him!"**

"**No… you mistake my actions, this is his… his contribution… 50% of his life wages will be paid to you… In some places in time the children repay their parents all they have spent on bringing them up. Please consider this as a sort of dowry" **

**There was silence again.**

"**Will we see him again? What's his chances of dying in some stupid mission that the Highers decide to send him on?" his more practical step-father asked.**

"**I won't lie, it will be dangerous for him, and he will change… more than you can think but he will still be around for many many years to come. I can promise you that"**

**Silence**

"**You know I haven't seen your face. I've offered you the hospitality of my home, and you have not once lightened the mask, will our air make you sick? . I can't take the promise of someone who will not look me in the eye" His step-father rather aggressively stepped up to the Agent.**

**Deoc heard the click of the breather mask being removed, the gasp of his mother, the strangers footsteps coming to the door, before gently closing it tight. **

**Three hours later He was being a typical sullen teenager, dragging his feet and his belongings behind him. For some reason unbeknown to him they had agreed to pack him off to the bloody agency, all smiles and promises of keeping in contact. At this moment in time he hated his parents. He hated his father for dying, his brother for not running fast enough, himself for not keeping hold of Grey's hand, and especially the man in front of him, silently escorting him to the docking bay. **

**The trip was rough, the ship was robotically piloted through the edges of the current war zones. It jinked and slewed across the inner circle of planets. The recycled air smelt funny to him, although o one else noticed it. He felt his stomach rise and fall, he bolted from his seat looking for somewhere to be sick. He just about made it and emptied the contents of his stomach down the silver bowl. **

"**Typical Greenfield! Volunteers for this and can't even deal with a little rough" **

**He was still bending over the toilet turned to look at the harsh speaker.**

"**Not stupid enough to volunteer, unlike others" he replied pointedly**

**The speaker raised an eyebrow "Oh! get him! Man-bags at…."**

"**Hart! Can it… It wasn't that long ago you couldn't even make the bathroom to throw up on a smooth ride" The synthesised voice came over the intercom. The one named Hart scowled. Deoc snook a glance his way, he was just about his age, high cheek bones, white blond hair. A pout to die for. He snorted to himself. Looks like this Hart character was all mouth and no action, that was until he looked into Harts eyes. They were cold. No emotion. He looked as though he would and probably had killed simply to ease the boredom. He'd seen the look before when Grey was very young. He was only good because he knew that Da would paste the 'badness' out of him using his belt. But, as always for everything Grey did, it was him that would get the rough end of Da's wrath. Angrily he blinked back tears as they formed. Hoping that no one would see them. He wiped his mouth with the back of hand. **

**Finally with a jolt the ship landed, and everyone disembarked. The ones who had signed up for the agency all wide eyed and curious of the planet they were to call home for the next 6 years. He skulked down the corridor, at the end of the train of young men and women, idly taking in the hubbub of the dock. **

**From the corner of his eye he caught sight of the one called Hart fiddling with something in a box, before pulling the item out. He remembered seeing one of these before when Grey had been taken. It was a spinter bomb, something designed to cause maximum damage. Outlawed on all planets in the government's keep. So what the hell was Hart doing with it?. Hart scowled in concentration, he was setting it. **

**Fear overtook his emotions before settling into a cold decision, if he yelled out a warning he would cause panic across the docks and would cause more problems than solve them. He'd have to deal with it himself; Hart was not going to kill this sorry lot. He launched himself at Hart trying to disrupt the arming sequence. The first punch he got in surprised Hart, but that surprise was soon subdued, so that their own fight became vicious. In between arming the bomb and beating him into a very tidy little pulp, Hart was smiling, laughing, and completely enjoying himself. **

**Hart knocked him over a large box, He landed awkwardly breaking his wrist. He refused to yelp in pain, he wasn't going to give Hart the satisfaction, as he stood his foot brushed something, another spinter bomb. The roundness of it gave him in idea. Carefully he picked it up. Hart's back was to him fiddling with the bomb. He raised the fresh bomb above his head to bring it down on to the back of Harts head, Hart was too fast for him, He spun round laughing, and landed a solid punch on his jaw, pushing him to the floor, as his head connected with the cold steel of the floor, and knocking him out he saw the outward explosion and the air pressure ballooned. **

**~~oOo~~**

**He woke in the infirmary. His wrist bound in gel. Hart stood in front of him scowling and rubbing the back of his head. **

"**Well done Greenfield you passed"**

"**?"**

**Another voice entered the conversation, he recognised the synthesised tone of the agent that had been at this his mothers place and who had brought him here. **

"**Out of the 200 recruits you and three others passed the first test. But you were the only one not to think it through and actually take action yourself. The others alerted the appropriates"**

"**He hurt my head." Hart sulked**

"**You'll live, you have a knack of surviving. Go back to your unit."**

"**Sir" Hart turned on his heel and left the room. The agent sighed and watched Hart slam the door behind him before continuing.**

"**You can't believe how long I've waited for that moment. It was rather stupid of you to take on him on your own"**

"**He was going to blow up the dock" He replied. The Agent laughed. **

"**No he wasn't. He's one of ours, not the sympathists, but well done anyway"**

"**Then what was he doing?**

"**Pretending, setting up the tests you were unlucky and found him, the gas worked"**

"**Forgive me for being dumb but gas?" **

"**Gas… the ship was full of hallucinogenic gas.. It's the only way we can get the tests done safely. Your team is red 12. Your leader is Raj. Keep up the good pass rates and you'll be an agent quicker than Hart. Then you'll be off this world for the rest of your life"**

**The Agent turned to leave.**

"**Sir? how long did it take him to become an agent?"**

"**Two years. Should be Six I'll watch your progress with interest Deoc"**

**~~oOo~~**

**Three years passed before he managed to actually finalise the tests. He smirked to himself, Hart may have been the youngest and quickest to pass into the agency, but he'd had the highest grades on record. He'd also managed to break 2 other unofficial records one being the most 'conquests' in a 3 year period. He'd been in love with every single one of them. His best friend had commented that he'd been searching for the love his mother had withdrawn when she lost Grey, but he didn't care, he would fight to the ends of the earth for all of them. He didn't care about race, gender, orientation or species it was the falling, the warmth the need, the giving the desperation, the joy, the tumultuous feelings that being in love gave him. Surprisingly not one of his ex's had been bitter or the jealous type each time he moved on. It was the act of moving on that had given him his current look. He looked smart, dashing even, in his passing out uniform, but the black eye, split lip and cracked rib he was currently sporting rather spoiled the effect. but he supposed he'd deserved it, he'd tried muscling in on Hart's partner. Hart had given him the black eye and split lip, and his partner had given him the cracked rib. **

**He watched the ship dock, its grace belied its size. Every move was thoughtful, deliberate and planned. Inside each ship was a Brain and a heart, and some believed a soul. When a ship became un-repairable and 'died' the other ships seamed slower, more sluggish, as though they were in mourning. Many believed the ships had become sentient. He watched as hundreds of Volunteers poured from the belly of the ship, each year fewer volunteers were making it through the first batch of tests. They'd stopped the bomb tests after word had got out about them and a real sympathist was caught with a spinter bomb. The damaged had been dramatic, many of the volunteers had died. Hart had been damaged badly in that explosion, it had taken him over a year to become mobile again, even with the nanogenes. The agency was still reeling from that, Once Hart had healed, he and Steele had created their own revenge, the faction responsible had disappeared not long after the explosion. It'd had become a footnote in the agencies history, and Hart and Steele had become the sympathist's nightmares. They time jumped constantly, being careful not to meet themselves, before ripping apart the faction. Rumours of their brutality spread, there was never another attack on the agency.**

**The volunteers that that did get through their tests took their time, not realising that they needed not only intelligence but the ability to use what the gods had given them and loose many of their morals. He'd often resorted to using not only logical but lateral thinking, charm, brute force, sexual favours and in one instance, crying like a baby. It worked, he had no shame – so he thought.**

**As promised the strange agent had taken an interest in him. He'd been summoned to the agents office several times, and not just for the occasional misdemeanours, but the agent had never removed or lightened his breather mask in his prescience, and for all of his digging, he could not find anything out about him. All records had been tampered with or removed. This agent was an enigma wrapped in a puzzle box…**

**It was an enigma with a fascination for earth, which was normal enough, all agents had a favourite place, but two specific time periods was unusual. The first was Earth's 2****nd**** world war, a place called London in particular. The stories of his times there, how dangerous it was, primitive bombs crashing to the ground at any time. Then something called the Blitz spirit was regularly referred to. Many wondered if this agent had slightly 'lost it', everyone knew there were no such things as ghosts and spirits, they were memories in time, struggling to get through to the normal world. The other fascination was the early 2000's every time he mentioned them you could hear his voice trail off, lost in happy memories before hardening as he remembered a loss.**

**The agent had pushed him hard. He'd never helped him, just pushed him to do well, for each disappointment the agent was there with a encouraging word. For each celebration a simple nod.**

**He knew the leader he was to move over to a man called Steele. Steele was formidable he would have been a general if the agency actually had ranks, yet time and time again the director had stopped them being formed. A familiar voice called his name. The Agent wrapped against a non existent cold, and usual breather mask over his face was walking towards him. **

"**Congratulations Deoc. Not quite the record but it'll do. Your mother will be proud. Leave is cancelled your assistance is needed with Steele and his team. Bay 12. I'll explain it to your mother"**

"**Thank you Sir"**

"**You won't be thanking me soon. Word of advice. Keep an eye out for red shoes, she really does mean no harm"**

**As the Agent turned away, he heard the agent say softly to himself "Was I really that young once?"**

**He'd reported to bay 12 as required to find enough kit there to arm a small country. Steele stood waiting for him. Hart was grinning behind him. The penny dropped as he realised they were now on the same team. His heart sank. **

~~oOo~~

Jack wheeled his horse back round onto the path for Paris. The clanging of the bells beckoning him forward as he raced into Paris he felt as though the world would explode around him. he needed the Khobol, he needed the little tablets Suzanne fixed for him. People scattered before him trying to get out of his way until the Horse skittered round the street home. Panting and with flecks of sweat across it, the animal finally was reigned in to stop outside the place he now called home.

He burst through the door yelling for Suzanne, throwing the rolled painting to one side as she stepped through from the dining room, closely followed by Flick.

"Well?" Flicks excitement was barely contained

"My Reward first"

Flick nodded to Suzanne who scuttled back inside the room. Only to appear moments later with a glass of the clear liquid and one of the dried blood red tablets, which Jack took gratefully, before sinking into his own private oblivion.

Over an hour later Flick was waiting impatiently, he'd discovered the painting where it had been thrown. It made no sense to him. He wanted to know what his contact had said. Why only Jack was allowed to get it. He paced, till eventually his impatience won.

"Suzanne!... Suzanne! Damnit woman get your backside up here." He yelled.

Slowly she appeared, drained of colour and energy

"It wont be long now Flick, I can no longer supply your chain" He ignored her.

"Wake him, Bring him back"

She looked shocked.

"No one has ever been brought back I don't know what it will do to his mind"

"Did I ask for an opinion? Bring him back. NOW!" Flick was forceful in his impatience and it frightened Suzanne it was an echo of what was to come. As a Priestess she knew what her future held. The Khobal and tablets that she regularly prepared, came from her. Blood of the dying was the basis for Khobal and the tablets, and she knew her time was closer every day.

Methodically she prepared the serum and the juice, all the time reciting the prayer for the dead. She could smell the damp earth in the air, the soul collectors would walk tonight. She only hoped it would not be her night. She felt a cold breath on the back of her neck, her senses had been heightened with years of meditation and drugs. The collectors would walk with her, but for who would they reach out to? Was this the time for her? A myriad of questions ran through her mind… Would he be the one? Could he actually do it? She'd been part of his past before she'd taken the vows. She'd bound him to his oath, with the skinny one, and the Vashanak, She'd taught them all well, the skinny one more likely to be amenable only to the violence. The Vashanak better at the planning, where as he embraced both, he became the 'Go to' man.

Her ritual part over, she climbed the stairs to his room, the cold breath behind all the time. She could hear Flick pacing the room below, waiting for Jack to rouse – She only hoped Jack's mind would be in one piece instead of fractured like a shattered mirror.

She raised his sleeping form so that he wouldn't drown in the liquid she was about to force into his mouth. She injected the serum into his neck. She sat back on her knees, head bowed, awaiting the punishment she believed she richly deserved.

_Deoc is (according to the name book) Galic for Jack._


	14. Chapter 14 Death of the Chemist

France: 1897 Mid March

He drew in a ragged breath. The overwhelming heat seared his lungs, his brain pounded and ached. His heart raced, the blood racing through his veins. His eyes snapped open. But he saw only darkness. He could smell damp, the black peat earth assailed his senses. He tried turning around. His legs fought against the earth surrounding him, he was sinking slowly. He fought down panic.

"Think clearly Jack the light will come back"

He forced himself to stop panicking, to slow his racing heart, to clear his thinking. Slowly a pin prick of light drew closer and larger. He felt a hand on his shoulder

"Grab my hand"

A familiar voice instructed him. He did as he was told and felt strong hands take his and pulled him from the earth. The light exploded before him blinding him again for a moment. His eyes recovered quickly and stood before him was the woman. Her white suit was immaculate, her long flame red hair fell in waves down her back, her skin already pale, was made paler by the suit. Freckles danced across her complexion. Deep emerald eyes watched him cautiously.

"Welcome home Jack" He recognised the familiar voice in his head belonged to the woman in front of him. He looked round.

"This isn't home, it's a swamp" he replied

"Yes but it's your swamp. Your defence system has cracked Jack, This is what's left of the guards to your mind."

"You lost me at 'swamp'" he admitted.

"Do you not remember your training? You house away everything that makes you… well… you in a protected place and build traps around it. The swamp is the despair, and the Fraticain, Flick is supplying you with. Your protected place is behind the swamp. I've done all I can there but I need your help Jack. " She admonished him.

"Why are you in my head? Are you my…" he floundered " for the want of a better word… Conscience?"

She laughed, a genuine, girly giggle. "Jack you've not had one of those for a long time… you're an agent. Consciences were left at the door to the academy. For all we do we have no room for regrets. We do the job in front of us, then play as hard as we work."

_He nodded in not quite understanding.. Something was missing. He knew something was wrong here, he felt like something was waiting to be revealed, hiding be hind a door, all it needed was the right push. _

"Do you remember the agency? Your training years? The missions you were sent on? Do you Jack? Do you remember your real name? Or has he and his chemist destroyed those memories too?" She spat out the words 'chemist' like a nasty taste.

Still holding his hand she lead him through the decaying rotten swamp, old logs cracked and crumbled as they climbed over them. Finally together she brought him face to face with his protected place.

The door opened, and the memory rushed out, hitting him at once with the impact of a pulse rifle. He gasped as he finally remembered it. For years he'd been fascinated with the old sugar mansions of the Deep South on the planet Earth. His father had often said their family could be traced back to Earth and the 19th century when they owned one. So in the classes, when everyone else was creating fortresses and ships so tightly bound down with restrictions and passwords, to protect their minds. He'd built this place, all his traps and restrictions were on the outside, nothing but beauty would sully his protected place. Things would be hidden in the open. All it would take was to recognise what they were actually looking at.

But the house now was dilapidated, the majestic doors swung roughly on their hinges. The porch floor buckled where the hogweed had forced its way through. The willows shed their leaves on the roof, cracking the guttering with their weight, pushing it away from the walls. The windows were cracked, and darkened. Some of the upper floor windows were missing. Ragged curtains fluttered against a non existent wind. Were these the two years of memories that were missing? They'd escaped and were hiding somewhere in his head?

The woman saw his discomfort and shook her head, she knew what he was thinking.

"No they haven't escaped, they're somewhere in your protected place, I have to find the door to that room, you hid it well."

"I didn't hide it, they did. I remember being in Holding for a month, but I don't know why. I remember the pain… I …"he struggled to carry on.

He stepped onto the porch and pushed open the door. Inside was dark, candles sat on surfaces bringing and ethereal light to the room. Old lights hung from the ceiling, their chandeliers occupied by whole civilisations of memory spiders. The woman grabbed his hand and pulled him down towards the kitchen. Door after door lined the corridor. He stopped beside one and pushed gently against it. She pulled him back

"Not that door Jack"

He stared at her, "If it's my place I can do as I wish"

She nodded, "But not that door, please, I don't want to have to fix a broken heart here as well as repairing your mind. They broke you, and for all the credits in the universe, nothing is worth repeating that. "

"Ah – I think I remember now" he grinned, "it was fun at the time though" He pulled the door closed.

Below in the kitchen she stood over him as she sat by the well scrubbed table...it was the only thing in this house that was.

"Who are you?" he asked, she ducked his question asking one of her own.

"Coffee?" She turned round offering a pot of freshly brewed coffee

"Where did you find coffee in here"

"It's your house not mine"

"Why are you in my head?"

"It was necessary, without me you cannot complete the task set aside and you're a convenient hiding place. Now I need you to listen and listen good"

He listened, he had no choice, he was stuck inside his own head, whilst this woman who refused to tell him who she was, lectured him on his choice of friend.

He sat there forced into listening. Despite being close, her voice sounded far away, distant even and getting further and further away. A roaring sound crashed over her tiny voice. He blinked; the room was fading, growing dark around the edges until all he could see was blackness, and her voice a small pinprick of sound.

~~~oOo~~~

He woke with a start and a pounding in his head or was that the door? Bleary eyed he swung himself off the bed, his legs almost buckling under him. He made his way to the door using the furniture as a prop until his legs caught up with the idea of being awake.

As he opened the door Flick, bodily dragged him through it, Jack fought back; only momentarily gaining the upper hand before he slipped and fell backwards down the small flight of stairs.

"What the hell was that for?" he asked angrily as he cradled his wrist,

_That was shear luck that you'd not broken anything important…like your neck. What the hell did you think you were doing? _The woman's voice inside his head was angry

Flick advanced, "The painting, why would he only give it to you? What did the old man say? Tell me."

Jack shrugged

"TELL ME EVERYTHING!"

_If you tell him everything, I will make the rest of your life even more miserable_ the voice hissed

Jack stuttered slightly. Currently he was in between a rock and a hard place. Flick was able to hold off supplying him the oblivion he needed; yet he had the feeling that the woman in his head was rather scary.

"The old man wanted me to meet someone. That's all, someone who knew my future. I had a moment to be absolved of my sins."

Flick laughed. It wasn't a pleasant sound. He was planning something, Jack was sure of it now, the laugh boarded on a girly giggle with a deep hacking cough.

"The painting, Help me study it, this time for every clue we crack, your oblivion will be supplied. It's about time you paid me back for my hospitality"

~~~oOo~~

Almost a month had passed and they were getting nowhere, they'd got so far before being stumped. The clues had lead him back to the town and the church he'd retrieved the painting from. Jack was now running on adrenaline, but he knew that his body couldn't maintain this situation. He'd jump at imaginary noises, the tremors in his hands were becoming more and more noticeable. His mind wandered easily and recently he'd started feeling sick.

Finally Flick had thrown up his hands in defeat. "Go downstairs, she's preparing the tablets. Take one, you might be more use after instead of the wreck you are now"

Jack, his relief visible bolted for the door to Suzanne's laboratory. He'd expected the laboratory to be either dank or dark and everything that old cellars would be, or pristine, clean and almost medical like the ones at home. He cast his mind momentarily. He'd never been homesick, it felt as though he'd been born to travel the stars and time, but occasionally he'd like to go home. Where ever that was these days.

But her lab was homely, a sanctuary even. Smooth walls were littered with symbols of her faith. A soft chair in the corner was welcoming. Books piled high beside it was littered with titles he didn't recognise from this era A smell of soft jasmine was in the air, its origin unknown. He caught sight of her kneeling before a small alter, her eyes closed, a blessed peace on her face. He studied whilst she maintained her prayers. She wasn't beautiful but she came close. Her once rounded features were now gaunt, her cheeks hollow. Her deep brown eyes were sunken. He looked closely at her arms, a criss cross of scars ran down each one.

"I know you're watching me Deoc"

He started at hearing his given name.

"I've not heard that for a long time, how do you know it?"

She smiled faintly as she held out a now bone thin arm for his assistance in standing.

"I know many things, and I've known you for a long, long time. We met not long after you graduated school."

He shook his head.

"I don't remember"

"You won't. Holding and the voice in your head are responsible for that" She turned away from him before spinning back

"I won't let him suck this life from me, He knows I'm dying Deoc, I'm too far from home." She sighed before making her way to the wall by the chair. Her questing hand reached out and touched a part of the wall that was indistinguishable from the rest. It slid back revealing row upon row of shelves with jars of seeds inside.

A mortar and pestle sat on one corner of the table that had slid out. Various sharpened blades hung from the lowest shelf. A large blackened knife lay forlorn on the table. A plaxon block beside it, was obviously used as a chopping area.

"I know what you want, but I have only one left. If you assist me you can have it"

He blinked owlishly at her she seamed to have a strange halo around her. Several blinks later it had gone, he shook his head to clear his thoughts.

"How did you get the plaxon strong enough for that?" he asked.

"I'm clever. Pass the foxglove and the yellow poppy seeds."

Together they crushed the foxglove seed and distilled it till it resembled a clear sticky liquid. Almost honey like in its fluidity.

"It's you, you know" she said absently

"You're the key to this. HE wants you and the key"

She picked up the poppy heads and scored around it with the large knife. Before slamming it down and turning to Jack. She opened her mouth to say something, anger boiled in her eyes. "Its your faul.." As quickly as it rose to boil her anger subsided and she turned back to the task in hand. The Black sticky tar substance from the poppy glooped into the distilled foxglove liquid, quickly turning it a dirty earthy colour. He watched as she tied a ribbon tightly around her arm waiting for her veins to rise. As they did she poked the tip of a clean knife into the vein. A rich black blood ran rivulets down her arm and also into the sticky liquid, which then turned into the colour of old blood. The smell of strawberries filled the air, overtaking the Jasmine.

"This is the last time Deoc." She told him,

"You'll be on your own, when the last ones are gone." Jack simply stood watching, waiting, he needed the drug, he needed these tablets to block out the nightmares that invaded his head. Were they nightmares or memories? He wondered.

As the last of the blood dripped from her veins, she sighed loudly, closed her eyes and started to chant. As she removed the tourniquet previously unseen candles spluttered to life. The liquid was dripped into tiny pools to dry. The main light in the room was snuffed out. Within the shadows she became almost skeletal. The smokes from the candles rapidly made the air feel cloying, making it difficult for him to breathe. In the Dark he could fell his heart starting to race. He closed his eyes tightly; calming himself, once tamed he opened his again. Suzanne stood before him her palms pressed together in prayer, black trails of drying blood on her arms. Her chant was only visible, not audible, whilst her face looked serene again.

He waited impatiently for her to finish, the tremors slowly starting again, this time his knee wouldn't stay still, it was constantly twitching, he stamped trying to ease the tic, and for a moment it worked. He glanced around the cellar and for a moment the smoke gave everything a blue tinge. Suzanne's voice cut through the smoke.

"I've seen the echoes of your future Deoc. I know your secret, It'll be used for both good and not so good."

"You mean evil?" she shook her head.

"No evil, badness, wrong, they're all different ways of looking at the same thing. You change their lives, sometimes for the best, sometimes…" she shrugged "for the not so best, but they need to happen, you cannot change things that are pre-ordained. I'm sorry; the one closest will not mean to betray you. Remember he can't resist a little meddling, and you are the one thing that he can't understand, so will meddle with more."

She sighed and became silent. He peered closer into the smoke; he swore he could see figures in there. The blond who had been following him for days, two hard faced woman gazing down on him with murderous curiosity in their eyes, The flash of a black leather coat he recognised as the doctor's. Figure after figure bombarded his skull, even when he closed his eyes they still bombarded him. The figures morphed into grotesques, their lips stretched in agony over their teeth. He gasped and reopened his eyes trying to rub the visions away.

Suzanne looked at him, a mixture of contempt and pity in her eyes.

"You're a sad sorry state. The once great third level captain reduced to begging for oblivion" she leant into him, "And unable to recognise he's being used. You're better off dead Deoc." She kicked his legs from under him forcing him to the floor.

He punched upwards as she leant over him, forcing her back pushing her onto the soft chair. She landed awkwardly, giving him time to get off the floor. The craving for the drug rapidly replaced with the rush of adrenaline, he grasped her collar forcing her to stand.

"I want you dead Deoc"

He laughed coarsely "If you know my secret, then you know that you'll hit a problem there"

"There's always a chance, but I want the woman in your head to die. She's the one I want. She slaughtered the others on my planet; she made the remaining few flee to the farthest reaches of the universe. She's condemned me to this slavery, this non existence. This little blue marble has nothing for me. Their religions are false; they couldn't hit the peace needed if they tried. These in habitants are little more than intelligent apes. And your agency grew from this tiny insignificant world, Humans crawl over it like insects." She spat the words out whilst reaching behind her trying to find a further weapon. Jack through the haze of smoke from the candles noticed and threw her against the wall. Years ago he would have paused before hitting a female, but years of experience had proved to him that generally viciousness' and femininity often went knife in hand. She rolled, kicking off the wall to save her. She grabbed his leg and pulled, bringing him back down to the floor.

The cloying air felt thick, he felt like a band was wrapped around his chest, tightening with each movement. He struggled slightly to breathe, the air knocked out of him as he fell backwards.

Together they rose, circling each other, before she advanced, grabbing the knife used to score the poppy seeds. The knife was still sticky, black tar oozed from between her fingers, he moved back as she slashed towards him. Her next slash was closer still; he back further and further back till he was stuck against the wall.

"I want her Deoc" An evil smile crossed her lips.

"She owes me, give her to me"

He yelped as the knife was buried to the hilt in his shoulder, she pulled it free with a sickening schloop noise.

He sighed, "This isn't going to work Suzanne, I can't die"

She stabbed him again, and again. With clarity known to the dying things were becoming clearer. He was going to let her kill him, at least it'd get it out of her system, and he'd get to stop being a pin cushion and if it'd get the infernal voice out of his head even better. He noticed the shine on the blade becoming more and more

"Great!" he mumbled "if I don't die I'm going to get an infection from the poppy crap on the knife!"

He managed to catch her wrist as she brought it forward again, he manovered it over his chest, Closed his eyes and said;

"Try here, but push harder"

He could feel the tip of the knife against his skin, his skin dimpling as the knife was pushed against it. A little pin prick as the blade pierced his skin.

He could hear that infernal woman's voice in his head yelling _No religious nut is going to kill me again! _

A moment passed, he couldn't feel the blade against his skin anymore; he opened his eyes. He was in a small room, a hazy light came through a broken and dirty window. Looking round the room it looked as though a small whirlwind or a toddler had been through it. Furniture had been upturned, bedding piled up, books strewn across the floor, piles of leaves hid in corners. The door was the only undamaged thing there; he tried it – locked from the outside. He tried forcing it, but it wouldn't give. As he stood back he noticed an envelope on the floor, trying to look innocent. He picked it up and emptied the contents. A smattering of confetti, a key and a note simply saying, 'repair yourself.'

The key was old; the metal darkened with age. He turned round looking for the place the key would fit. Hidden behind a pile of old books and upturned furniture was a small cupboard in a corner. Hesitantly he edged towards it. Carefully turning the key in the lock he bounced back as the door creaked open. He slightly felt a fool, but then again he was stuck in his own head; goodness knows what he'd kept in here. Inside were tools, a broom, fresh glass and bedding. He sighed, understanding. She'd stolen his body and he was expected to repair his mind. He fumed, angrily stomping around the room, kicking at the leaves on the floor, venting his rage in well chosen expletives. Until he finally gave in, he couldn't get out, he couldn't get to her, he may as well do something… but this? He sighed, Oh well, he was a dab hand at putting up shelves he supposed, this couldn't be anywhere as bad as being the 'handyman' for the Duchess.

He swept the room clean, tipping the leaves out of the broken window; righted the furniture; repairing what was needed, before replacing the broken glass. He sat on the now clean bed and sorted the books that were on the floor into some sort of pleasing order before placing on the bookshelf. The room finally looked presentable. He sagged, and looked round for something else to do… Outside the sun had hardly moved; it seamed to be nailed to the sky a perpetual ball of gas, hanging there, waiting. He turned away and looked closer at some of the books. They seamed to be in his handwriting, he recognised some of the planet names on the spines. He heard a click behind him. The door slowly swung ajar; cautiously he opened it and stepped out into the hall.

What he saw dismayed him.

~~~oOo~~~

Standing directly in front of him was Suzanne, her face registering shock. His left hand was placed on her shoulder, pulling her towards him. He could feel the warmth of her hands clasped round his other hand which itself was holding tightly something. Together they looked down; as her fingers fell away, they released his. His own hand was sticky with black blood, as he pulled his hand back he withdrew the knife from deep within her body. An overwhelming sweet smell of strawberries filled the air. Between them blood and bile rose. She staggered back, blood seeping through her clothing, her hands feebly pressed against the raw wound. From the corner of her mouth a small trickle of blood escaped. Jack dropped the knife, and spat out the bile rising in his throat.

"Gods what happened?" He questioned the voice in his head

_I had to protect you; she was going to kill me. You die, I die, you get to come back, everything gone, back to the way you were at the time the wolf brought life, I don't get that chance, and you need me._

Horrified he watched Suzanne sink into the chair, blood flowing fast through her fingers as they clutched at her body below her ribs. He crossed the room to her.

"Let me get Flick, he can help, he can save you"

Her breath was ragged, " Go Deoc, Leave Here. Keep away from him."

"You'll die"

"I'm dying anyway, this way is more … acceptable to me" weakly she pushed him away.

He looked at her unsteadily, he felt almost drunk, his vision was starting to blur. A blue haze surrounded everything. "What have you done to me?" he felt like his words were struggling through treacle; they didn't want to be spoken.

"Whatssss on that knife?" he slurred

Suzanne smiled and together the voice in her head and Suzanne said.

"Opium"

_Jack we need to leave. Now!_

He stumbled through the room, trying to gather up the batch of freshly made tablets, more fell on the floor than made the way to his pockets. The occasional glance over to Suzanne, confirmed she was slowly loosing the fight for life. He'd taken life before, so many times he'd relieved a body of the burden of life; but that was under orders; in the line of his duty. He'd had licence, but now, this was different. A life was over because of a want. An internal battle was going off in his head, in a sort of surreal way as he knew he was under the effects of what ever had got into him. The effect of the opium was clouding his thinking, if he was to escape he had no option but to allow Phire to take control of him. He remembered his last look at the dying Suzanne as he pulled a blanket over her and left.

As he crept down the stairs, a bag in hand, he could hear Flick talking to someone. He could hear heels clicking over the wooden floor.

"Home? I come from lots of places you could say I'm a bit of a wanderer." She smiled at Flick, "But then again so are you?" The woman was sat in the comfy chair facing the door, her eyes following Flick as he paced back and forth

He turned around quickly "how do you know about me?"

"I'm perceptive, plus I've done my research. But you need a cryptographer to decode the painting. How far have you got with the decoding"

Flick sighed, "Not very far to be honest, I know I need your assistance. My current assistant and I are having a little difficulty" Flick gestured for her to sit down. "Please be seated Miss…?"

"Please just call me Cornelia"

She had chosen her seat carefully; she could just about see the stairs from her vantage point. At the edge of her hearing she could hear a fast ragged breathing.

Flick crossed in front of the doorway, blocking her view, but still she heard the creep of someone passing.

"My assistant is rather …" he paused " Let's say distracted"

A silence descended for a moment before the sound of a horse racing from the back yard alerted them both.

"Is that why he's trying to leave then?" She smiled making light of a serious note, but Flick ignored it.

"It's no concern; he'll be back sooner rather than later. He needs me now more than ever"

Saying nothing she simply nodded in agreement, unfortunately she knew how much Jack would need Flick hence her presence here. She could at least protect him or the key, from a man looking at sanity from a distance"

"Shall we start work then?" she suggested, removing her long black jacket and draping it over a chair.

~~oOo~~

Jack had stood on the stairs listening to the conversation, but as it turned to the decoding of the painting he, he saw a pair of red shoes as the owner seated herself just out of eyesight from his position on the stairs."

_It's that woman again. Come on, we're leaving. The horse is ready._ He felt himself being propelled through the house to the yard at the back. The horse, a more sensible creature than most of its stable mates, could sense the urgency, and stood patiently until Jack had mounted it and between the three of them, the horse, Jack and the woman in his head road hell for leather out of Paris.


	15. Chapter 15 Reunions

France Mayl 1897

It had been nearly a month since she had first came to Flicks house, and between them they had made very little progress. She had been left to her own devices since Flick had found his chemist dead. He had needed to translate Suzanne's notebook so that he could continue the supply of drugs to his own little empire, whereas she was studying the notes made between Jack and Flick, and Da Vinci's note book. Gently she stroked the cracked leather binding. Almost in reverence she opened the book at a page, A face she'd not seen for years looked back at her, a cheeky smile and his hands stuffed into trouser pockets made him look younger than she'd ever guessed, but the sadness in his eyes betrayed his years of suffering, being the last of his kind and self-proclaimed protector of this little blue pearl all took its toll on him.

"You really are a silly man, if you'd only have looked back, you would have seen what was not there and found me." She whispered.

Flick listlessly raised his head from the desk where he'd fallen asleep. The death of Suzanne had affected him more than he made out. He'd trawled through her notes and attempted himself to make the drugs he plied to the dens around France. Some had worked, but he needed something else. A page of notes she'd made about Jack had raised his curiosity. The volumes he'd taken should have brought down a concrete elephant, yet he'd been fine. "BLOODS/RECYLING/LIFESPAN/WHY WON'T HE DIE?" Then further down the page in large letters he found "PHIRE'S THERE"

Flick roared in anger. That was all he needed. He knew Lady Phire could get behind someone's eyes, become part of them without the host knowing. Was she in there protecting Jack? Or was she after the Key? He needed Jack back more than he had originally thought. Phire was a link between the key and its protector. If he had her, then he didn't need Jack, unless it was as a guinea pig. If the man couldn't die then he could be part of his experiments.

His thoughts were suddenly disrupted by a shout from Cornelia,

"What?"

"I believe the term is Eureka"

"Why? What have you found?"

"There's a castle in the background, on an island, it's not a church as originally thought. Look it ties in with" she thumbed through the journal Flick had originally shown Jack, till she found the page. A pencil drawing in a corner matched the castle in the painting, but taking the rest of the page was an intricate picture of a solid wooden door and its stone surround.

"Look the surround here has an inscription. The doorway in the castle on the painting is identical, but you can only see the larger marks around the door frame. They have to be the same place. The key could be here"

Flicks tired eyes tried to make out the inscriptions. He stared at the page until the words swam around. He shook his head.

"I need sleep, I'll look at it in the morning" they both jumped as loud knocks came from the front door.

"Flick!" a muffled voice yelled from the other side of the front door.

"I know you're in there"

Flick turned towards Cornelia, "I'll let you get that I'm too tired to deal with him tonight" before hauling himself up and dragging himself through the room down to Suzanne's old room. He'd taken to sleeping there, a sort of comfort from an old… well she wasn't really a friend, more of an employee, or even slave if he wanted to get technical about it.

He could hear the muffled thumps of the door being pounded as he sat in the comfortable chair in the corner of Suzanne's room. The smell of the jasmine and strawberries still hung in the air, even after all this time, it permeated the air. He sat back, his hands behind his head, deep in thought.

_With Lady Phire in Jacks subconscious she won't let him die, it'll mean the release of her, then I can kill her, no she can't die, she already is. She is the devil inside in this one. Why Jack, why has she chosen him?_

He thought back to his days as a trainee agent, the assignments on the history of the agency. His memory played tricks on him sometimes, but he swore that this planet was the birthplace of the agency. His agency was some bastardisation of two governmental agencies, small inept little agencies, merging into one by two men, and a handful of women. An accident had given them the knowledge of rift travel, and the sheer bloody-mindedness of two men turned it into time travel. He racked his memory for those names as one by one he would remove them from the planet and get rid of this godforsaken agency. If he couldn't do it by violence he would do it by stealth and for that he needed the key.

~~oOo~~

The hammering on the door was intense. The hammerer was making no bones about the fact he wanted entry. She grabbed a small pistol from the arms cache on the wall, before moving to the side and sliding the bolt free. The door bounced back with such a force it almost slammed itself shut again, before being pushed back and wind blew in the man banging on the door.

They both reacted in the space of a heartbeat, they stood on the middle of the hallway, his pistol aimed at her head, her's aimed at his groin,

"Hello bitch. Fancy meeting you here. Looks like we're at a bit of an imp arse. I love that word can mean sooo much. Drop the pistol, this hit is mine"

"Hello honey. Its impasse, you ignorant fool." She sighed," I'm not on a contract for this one, I'm working for him."

Hart looked at her warily, "This is a trick? Why the hell would you work for him?" together they lowered their weapons. "What's he offered you?"

"Nothing, I'm…"

"She's after Harkness, and he works for me. What the hell do you want?"

Flick stood on the stairs, large range rifle pointed at Harts head.

"You do know if you shoot that thing it will take out the door and most of the front of the house?" Hart licked his lips nervously,

"Doors can be mended, so can you, or so it seems" Flick replied. "What's the contract on me worth? I'll triple it… Plus you get Harkness when I've finished with him"

Hart looked towards Cornelia,

"Who's Harkness?" he whispered from the corner of his mouth

"The one _you_ wanted. Remember that's the name he goes by here." She returned the whisper

~~oOo~~

"When did he leave?" Hart questioned Flick early the next morning,

"Are you working for me or against me?" Flick countered

"You give me Jack and I'm working for you, that plus the credits that are on your head"

Flick sighed, "It's worth the price I suppose. You don't kill him until I tell you though; he has a task to do for me"

Hart sat back resting his boots on the table and picking at his nails. "You're the boss – this time, now where's he going?"

"He's taken the black horse, he's not in a fit state to actually control it, and so it'll be on its way to Tarascon." He flung a saddle bag at Hart, map and stuff you'll need is in there." He watched Hart rummage through it. before standing and making his way to the door.

"Oh Jacks not on his own or in his right frame of mind at the moment so just trail and watch. Contact me the usual way."

Hart glanced down at his wrist strap.

"They still work here? Thought this place was a no go zone for these things, the enforcement claimed this planet was too backwards for these to work"

"The enforcement has been… let's say breached" Flick smiled, and for once Hart felt uneasy at the smile. Something nagged at him from the back of his mind, but he couldn't quite put his finger on it as he walked away.

~~oOo~~

They'd wandered aimlessly for weeks before the horse took it into its own head to take the lead. It knew where it wanted to go, it was an old familiar place where it would smell the strange humans that weren't quite human enough but still lucid enough to shower it with treats. Originally the horse had just kept on running. It was the more sensible of its species and had figured that slowing, or stopping was not yet an option. The rider wanted to be away as fast as possible and who was it to argue. It enjoyed running, whilst running it became the wind, the joy pushed it further and further on. It completely disregarded the strange human on its back.

Jack was sat back inside his own head, nonsensical whimsies playing in his head. For the first time in years, he was totally and truly relaxed. Whatever had got into his system was fantastic. He smiled to himself, and then permitted a little giggle as a stray thought wavered in front of him. The memory of the first con flooded back. He smiled as he remembered the look on Harts face when he realised that he'd pulled the short straw so to speak.

"**Vampires" Steel said handing the bottle to Hart.**

"**What?"**

"**Vampires. This is Ormailion, they live for the occult here. You'd make a good vampire Deoc"**

"**Nope Hart'd be better than me" he took a mouthful of whisky from his own bottle.**

"**Not bloody likely," Hart retorted**

"**Well it has to be you. I'm too pretty for that"**

"**Ungh" Hart took another swig of bourbon, before passing it on to Steel**

"**Oh come on, you look good in that get up. The leather suits you. You could be a bit paler though. You have a 'don't give a damn look' when you want it just like a vampire" **

**Steel snorted, the bourbon making his eyes water as it came down his nose.**

"**! I don't wanna be some damn bloody Vampire." Hart stood and snatched the bottle of whisky from Jack.**

"**Ha good joke!"**

"**Fuck off Jack"**

"**Why do you insist on calling me that?"**

"**Deoc is well… "uncharacteristically Hart squirmed, uncomfortably unwilling to admit something. "Well its just one of those words you just don't say where I'm from"**

**Jack raised his eyebrows in mock shock.**

"**There are words even _you_ won't say? Really? Gods, it must be something bad. Where _ARE_ you from? Listen the mark has a thing for the occult and we know vampires do exist. Yes they're a little different from his imagination, where as you fit his imagination perfectly."**

"**Fuck off!"**

**Steel tried drunken reasoning.**

"**Look we want access to his fortune, he wants a tame vampire, It's only for a little while, I'll get the rumours going about you, then when he's absolutely terrified of you, I'll 'rescue' him from you, for a fee of course, and them kill you off so to speak."**

"**That is the 4th worst damn plan I have ever heard"**

"**Do I still hold the 1st worst damn plan? The one with the string and the octopus?" Jack asked taking the bottle back. "Do you know that there are women and men out there that are willing to throw themselves on your mercy, just because you're a vampire? You don't really have to bite them; you have the drug, let them think you have bitten them."**

"**Really? How many?" Despite himself Hart was interested**

"**Dozens"**

"**Oh. That all?"**

"**May be hundreds," Steel corrected, "Possibly thousands"**

"**And they'll all want me to...bite…' them?**

"**So I've heard" They both nodded at Hart**

"**This is for a little while?"**

**Steel and Jack smiled at each other, Hart was easy to win round when sex was involved.**

~~~oOo~~~

Jack laughed to himself, Hart had over three years of being a tame vampire, and he just didn't want to let all those people down. Every time Jack or Steel had attempted a 'rescue' they'd hit a brick wall, Hart really didn't want to leave. Then the war came, like all wars it threatened to engulf the planet, and like all wars it was over something neither side really understood about the other. The mark became distracted from his obsession with Hart, until Hart challenged the hierarchy. He'd swaggered and stole his way into the council. He ripped apart their rulings, and terrified them. His 'master' became Lord, and the war rolled on. The power held by Hart's reputation had managed to become intriguingly dangerous enough for the mark to be scared but excited by him. That is until the mark got involved into shipping weapons, so eventually Hart, Steel and him had had to leave the planet in a hurry, leaving a vast fortune and a price on their heads.

~~~oOo~~~

Jack sat back in the protected place and dreamt memories whilst Phire controlled him physically. For three days she controlled his body, ensuring it went through the relevant motions to look after the horse, she was more lax about looking after him, only ensuring he drank, he was big enough and ugly enough to sort himself out when he finally came out of this stupor, after all he was stupid enough to get himself in it.

But despite all she did, it wasn't enough, slowly his protected place began to crumble, his mind was going down the long path of paranoia and madness, his body was beginning to crave the Fraticain as the remnants of the drug tore through his system feeding on his own strength.

~~~oOo~~~

The horse slowed to a gentle walk, aware of another coming towards it on the path.

The oncoming horse was skittish. It danced from side to side. It could tell that the rider on its back wasn't like any other rider it had carried. Its ears flicked back and forth, its eyes rolled. This horse was not happy. A dull brown pheasant shot out of the undergrowth with a loud squawking noise. The horse reared and started to turn back to where it had come from, when the brightly coloured male shot out after its female. The horse bolted, the rider fought for control. Phire reined Jack's horse around and gave chase. Jacks own horse taking easy strides to catch up with the frightened horse in front. Eventually the presence of the other calmer horse slightly slowed the bolting horse enough for its rider to yank back on the reigns to stop it. The beast skidded to a stop, catapulting its rider over its ears and into the damp undergrowth at its feet.

"You're wet" Phire snorted, unable to contain her laughter.

"Thank you. I know" The dumped rider scowled up.

Phire was silent a moment, deciding whether to admit that Jack wasn't home and she was controlling him or just go with the flow and introduce herself as Jack. The scowling rider saved her the decision.

"Well Jack aren't you going to help me up?"

She swung Jack out of the saddle to stand in front of the man in the damp. His legs buckled momentarily the drug sapping strength from him. Grabbing on to the pommel of the saddle she straightened him out then offered his hand towards the stranger. His strong grip was warm, familiar. She studied his face whilst inside Jacks mind she riffled through memories to find out who this man was.

Finally she found the memories, He hadn't changed that much, still had the hungry look, high profile cheek bones, and that rather tasty, sensual mouth, even with the smell of the damp earth on him she could smell his pheromones. She'd smelt them before, racking her own mind she finally found her memories. He'd made unwelcome advances towards her as she waited in the presidents room, whilst the assailant wreaked havoc downstairs.

"Hart" She nodded

"Didn't expect to see me here? Did ya miss me?" he grabbed his horses bridle and yanked its head round roughly. The fear in the horse's eyes was unpalatable. He made to thump the beast, but she caught his hand just before it connected.

"Bloody beast, dumping me like that"

"You frightened it, what else is it going to do"

She made Jack remount and look down on the rather soggy Hart.

"Go home Hart, You don't belong here. They're not up to your level of violence yet" She said before slowly riding off. Immersed in her own thoughts and the control of Jack she only just caught Hart's own reply

"….business, plus I came back for you. I missed you"

Inside Jacks head she ran through the dilapidated mansion, searching for Jack. She eventually found him sat in the middle of a large panelled room.

"_I always wanted to be here. The agency corrupted me, Turned me into this"_

_It corrupted us all Jack, Turned us into what we were capable of. No one else ever got the chance. You shone Jack, you shone so brightly a destiny found you, not the other way round. Look at everything we saved, the peace we created_

_He looked up at her. "They're just words, just whispers in the wind. Look at the damage we created." He hugged his knees to his chest and rocked back and forth_

"_I want to go home"_

_Home__doesn__'__t__yet__exist.__Your__path__is__here__at__the__moment._ She knelt beside him stroking his head. He leaned into her like a child too old to climb into is mothers lap, but still craving that security. _And__you__how__will__you__go__home__Phire,__why__can__'__t__I__go__with__you?_

_There'll be a way, but you have to stay here its important, you belong here and have so much to do here, before you can even leave this planet" Her voice was fading, _

"Phire? Phire don't leave me. Don't you go!" He panicked as she sat on a chair, she was visibly paler than he'd ever seen her before.

_I just need to rest Jack, Who do you think has been looking after you since you left Flick?_

" I can look after myself!" he replied indignantly.

She nodded tiredly before closing her eyes and falling asleep. He picked her up as best as he could and made his way up the curved staircase, not even noticing the fact that the hallway was now so far in disrepair weeds were making their way up through the elegant tiled floor. He found the one room that he's been forced to mend and laid her on the bed, gently stroking her forehead. Softly he kissed her lips before leaving her and locking the door behind him.


	16. Chapter 16 Shooting Memories

France 1897 Late Autumn

He took poor control of both his mind and his body. He lied to himself, he stole that which he thought was necessary, he contemplated death several times, but suicide was not one of his own options. He'd been in situations before, that admittedly, merited that particular sorry form of death, but even then he'd not been able to take his own life. Now? Now when he had a chance to restart, reset or whatever it was that would bring him back to his normality, free of the woman in his head, free of the hunger in his belly and the craving his body, he knew that the feeling of abandonment would never leave his soul, so it wasn't worth wasting his time.

The horse had wandered to a dilapidated building. The building itself dead, yet life still buzzed inside. The silence from the woman in his head was deafening, she'd all but washed her hands of him. But then again what was yet another abandonment?

He'd dismounted and ignored the horse, which just stood there, waiting patiently for further use. A crowd gathered round him pawing at him, begging, waiting for something, but he offered nothing. The craving ate away at him, he needed something to control his nerves. With shaking hands he delved into a pocket of his coat, and found what he was looking for. The little dried blood tablet hidden in a corner. Slightly covered in fluff – Where did the fluff come from he wondered in a lucid moment, it wasn't as though he ever put fluff in there, and _she_ was far too "proper" to do something like that. She'd attempted to reduce his need of these, but he enjoyed the oblivion too much, the lost feelings dissipated whenever he took them. He was taken back to his memories and times when he was wanted and needed. In her desperation she'd washed her hands of him, for the moment, or at least until he became a danger to himself. Then and only then would she intervene. This was her reason for being here within him. So here he stayed wandering only at night, originally ashamed of what he had become, till eventually even shame abandoned him.

One rain drenched night nothing felt right, something in the air tasted foul. Even in a reduced state he could still sense the presence of his old leader. Everything was wrong, the light was wrong, the air had a sticky feel.

_You're needed Jack_

The woman had finally spoken. Three months of silence had passed and he had to admit he'd been lonely.

_Something is going to happen and you need to be there to see it. I've left you alone this long as you asked, now do this for me._

Against his will, his legs moved of their own accord,propelling him out of the dilapidated old railway house.

"Leave me alone Phire" he sulked

_Do you not think that if I could I would? This is my own form of hell, my own punishment, wet nursing a childish, selfish, coward who wouldn't know up if it was painted on the stars themselves. It is because of this you come into your own. _

"I refute that! I've never been a coward, I may have been a little childish, never selfish" He stumbled over track that once carried the masses to Paris on the beautiful new trains that had evolved from the little Trevithick steam engine once used at the Pennydarren ironworks. Victoria and Albert themselves had passed through here but now there was nothing except dead track, and weeds. He forced his way through a buddleia sprouting between the ballast. In the distance he heard a fox bark, its unholy murderous cry answered by its mate. He stumbled over points as another track joined the ones he followed.

_You used to be brave, dashing, handsome, caring, loving, good with a weapon, even, from what I've heard rather good with your hands, but that is all behind you, You were a Great Captain, you were THE Go to guy, new recruits looked up to you, oh if they could see you now, they'd laugh._

"Shut up. I'm well aware of …"

_Shushh. Up ahead_

He stood at the edge of the platform ramp and watched two figures square off to each other. He wasn't close enough to hear what they were saying but he easily caught the gist of their movements. The night didn't hamper his vision, he'd always had good night vision. He stifled a laugh as the female brought up her knee and landed it squarely in the man's groin. Their fight was intense, instead of using the obvious pulse pistols they'd reverted to swords, the clang of each blow was audible. Sparks flews as the swords ran down each other. Finally with both of them close to the edge of the platform the woman pulled out her pulse pistol and aimed it at the man's head. Jack found himself moving forward interested despite himself. He thought he recognised the man's style of fighting, he'd seen it too often, hells, even been on the receiving end a couple of times. He figured he knew what was coming next. He could feel the vibrations of an oncoming train beneath his feet. It shouldn't have been there, the track was dead, pulled up at one end, he could taste the ozone, someone was playing with time. He saw the man jerk back before being enveloped in a beam of light. The woman fell forward off the platform, landing with a sickening crunch on the ballast separating the rails. Jack rushed forward and grabbed the woman's arm lifting her bodily out of the way as the train thundered past, whistling angrily.

He could feel her eyes run over him and he felt embarrassed, dirty and ashamed. He wrapped his arms around himself in a protective action and rocked back and forth on the balls of his feet. He could feel the nervous energy coursing through him. He spoke roughly, for the first time in three months he'd willingly made a conversation.

"I watched you. You're good with the blades. One of the best I imagine."

"Thank you, Thank you for…" He cut her off

"That was Steele?"

He could tell the question surprised her.

"Yes" she nodded looking intently at him. Jack snorted. He was afraid to look at her.

"Good, I never liked him. Too far up his own backside" he smiled to himself, before gaining the courage to look at her. He prayed she wasn't an agent he once knew.

Her mouth dropped open in shock.

"You're dead" she finally managed to get the words out. "I saw it happen, I left you there, called it in. collected the" Jack interrupted her with another snort.

"Yeah, well. That's a different story…!" He responded. Before she could reply he ran down the platform jumped onto the rails and disappeared into the night, back to the dingy room in the old rail house.

~~oOo~~

The room was bereft of all furnishings, except for a dirty mattress thrown under the large window. At first glance the pile of discarded clothing resembled nothing more than that, dirty, discarded clothing until the eye took in the pile softly raising and falling as if breathing. Closer inspection would show it was a man, once proud features were turned towards the wall. Long hair fell lankly onto the mattress. A constant mumbling could be heard from the man. This was someone so low, he no longer cared about the company he kept or the life – no - existence-he was now leading.

This room was the cleanest of the property, he'd attempted to make it slightly liveable, but the longer he stayed the more like the others in here he became. Here, dirt mixed with blood, this was a hell, a complete and living hell. A second hand light played its grimy pattern on the floor, struggling to get through the blanket darkened windows. The horse had brought him here, obviously it had been before, perhaps this place was something to do with Flick. He didn't want it to be like this, but he'd been dragged in, and the oblivion he desperately needed took more and more strength to defeat. After saving the woman at the station the woman in his head was now constantly talking, trying to stop the downward spiral of lost confidence, wretched feelings of abandonment, desperation, the desire for the long and welcome sink into the inky blackness of death. A death he knew he would never have. Rose in her innocence had brought life, and it had all poured into him.

He snapped out of his thoughts with the woman. They were currently arguing philosophy, or rather his take on it. She was weak; the promised oblivion was always stopped by her. Memories he had were allegedly not his, according to her. So what was his now? He had nothing if she was to be believed. He heard shouts below, a weedy voice begging for the drug, another shouting for food, a woman's voice rang out clearly. He recognised it instantly. Etannia's voice,

"Jack! Jack! Where are you?"

He took the stairs two at a time, almost falling to get to her.

"Jack help us!" her voiced echoed a fear; she was here and in need of him. The memory of her death was wrong, she'd found him. He wasn't abandoned or alone anymore.

_Jack listen it's not her, she was never yours, _

He ignored the voice. Its insistence really was starting to irk him. He burst through the door of another room, but the voice was in a different one, he could hear her struggles, her cries for help. He tried another room, its stench hit him at once, this room was filled with the addled bodies intertwined with each other; many lay where they fell, not moving from their own personal oblivion.

He heard her scream again, this time a metallic voice could be heard. Momentarily he froze; the owners of the voice were the reason for his curse. What were they doing here? He grabbed the nearest thing – a plank of wood, uprooted from the edge of the room to be used as fire wood, broke it over his knee and ran full pelt into the room from which he heard Etannia's scream. He knew the wood would, in the end be useless, but if he could at least blind it by destroying its eyestalk then she would be safe.

He barrelled into the room and into the rear of a Dalek. The shocked faces of those around it would be etched in his memory for a long time, or so he believed. If he would die protecting them then so be it, he was ahead of the game there. He'd already seen Steele here on this rock, and he knew Steele had seen him, yet looked though him as though he wasn't there. So he was now a nobody, no one cared except his Etannia and she had found him. He brought the broken plank down sharply, he didn't hear the cry of pain, and again and again he brought it down intent on breaking the eye stalk. Unbelievably others tried to stop him. He'd heard that the Daleks had been able to manipulate humans in the past, make them do their bidding. The thing was finally blind, spinning round and round, attempting to find who to blast. Another person picked up a gun that had been thrown on the floor, raising it to shoot the Dalek. A shot rang out.

Jack stood there shaking his head, his vision cloudy. Slowly the cloud dissipated; Etannia had gone, in the place of the Dalek stood a young man, his arm dangling loosely at his side, Tears of pain running down his face. Jack went to step over to him to comfort him, to find out who had caused this terrible injury. The man shrank back, fearful of Jack. Each and every pair of eyes in the room stared at him; before slowly moving down his body and watching the patch of red seep through his dirty white shirt and down his front. He spat blood on to the floor, his breath becoming ragged, he felt as though he was swimming through the air around him, it pressed down, forcing itself into him.

_Don't panic Jack, go with it. I can stop it, I can slow your heart and your breathing. You are not drowning. Look at them concentrate, on my voice._

Behind him he heard footsteps, as he turned another shot rang out, aimed at the person behind him, who promptly blasted the firer with a pulse pistol. But the bullet had entered Jacks head, skimming his brain before lodging itself in the wall behind. He remembered the last person he saw was Flick as the world swam out of view and everything turned black.

_Shit! First it's his lung now his brain. I can only deal with one thing at a time. Heart, where's the neurons for the heart? Got them, slow it down, close the lung down. Survive on the other. Shut the brain functions off except the necessary… Nope that one is definitely not necessary.. Why is that the last thing he thinks of _?

Flick caught Jack as he crumpled towards the floor, blood covered his face and his clothing. He roared at the men in the room to leave. He laid Jack on the floor before holding his head in his hands, probing at the open mind for the door he left in there.

"_What are you doing woman?" Jack yelled in the safety of his own head._

_Saving you Jack, protecting you,_

"_Don't. Leave me. Let me die, when I die I can make it right"_

The woman in white looked at him; _do you remember who I am?_ His mind shook his head.

_Good, I'll explain later_ she pushed the mind figure of Jack away forcing him into a long comatose sleep. A noise behind her made her turn around

'_Good to see you again Phire, you haven't aged a day'_

'_You know why Flick, it was your fault in the first place. You left me to them, they made me. In making me like them they made me strong, able to resist your "charm" How the hell did you get in his head?'_

Flick smiled, before a pulse of sheer power emanated from him pushing her backwards toward the door of Jacks protected place.

'_I've changed Phire, I'm stronger too, and my abilities have grown. He let me create a door in his protected place. And here I am. Whilst you were… let's say gone away…My life took a different path. I found out what was happening at Holding. They are not taking me back to then. I am now the stronger of all of the agents and when I get the key, you will all be mine. I will be able to rewind everything and you will be bound to me.'_

A pulse of energy hit him straight in the chest. He simply absorbed it whilst laughing, and gathering his own energy returned the blast at her. The onslaught between them became worse. Between them power pulses and sound waves wracked the protective shell of the house. Any ground she gained, Flick fought back with deception and Jacks own memories. She ran through the rooms, avoiding the little boy chasing her, reaching out for her. The Daleks trundled after her, and as she climbed the stairs they rose with her. Finally exhausted and weak she found herself in the one place she didn't want to be; the veranda, the one place she had not yet had time to heal. Creeping vines tangled themselves round the spindles of the decking, willow branches attempted to trip her. On an old rusting table she found an equally rusty pair of shears.

She turned as she heard the firm footsteps of Flick behind her, his smile never made his eyes, She lunged at him, raising the sheers, but he laughed, a soft gentle sound of a young girl, almost pleasant to the ears until they caught the echo's of spite and hate. The laugh swiftly turned into a hacking cough.

He stood his ground, and sheer will alone pushed her away towards the creepers and willows on the edge of the veranda. Swiftly the tendrils of young creepers bound her legs, the soft supple branches of the willow her arms she became routed to the spot. Encased in a living shell, her eyes visible but defeated. Her strength was no more. Flick came closer and looked into her eyes.

'_Velon has a price on your head, twenty times the one on mine, yet still not as high as the price on this one'_ he gestured around him, taking in all of Jacks protected place. _'This prize is mine, there's something within him, I can harness his blood, I can make his soul dance to my tunes, and this one loves dancing. You had to interfere, but in your meddling you've managed to save him for me. He's no good to me dead, for he is the one, only he can get me the key.'_

He raised his hand gesturing for the plants to pull her apart, but as he did, he heard the soft popping of buds issuing from the creeper. All around her soft white flowers were blooming. Each tiny five petal flower had a yellow centre, their fragrance encompassed everything. It reached into him, tore at a memory and made him stop.

'That's not fair! You're not playing the game properly!' he yelled to the open sky. 'They were her flowers,' A sob escaped him. The scent of the tiny plumeria encompassed everything; the stench of the swamp was gone. All anyone could smell now was this beautiful flower.

With a howl Flick vanished.

~~oOo~~

He sat back on his haunches and removed blood stained hands from the side of Jacks Head. Tears coursed down his face. "You bastard" he whispered to the dying form of Jack at his knees. "That was not playing the game properly" He looked up realising where he was. He barked out orders at the remaining addicts, bribing them into action with offers of fresh drugs, and between him and two others they half carried, half dragged the comatose body of Jack the waiting horse outside. Knowing he had a little time he ran alongside the horse, ensuring Jacks body didn't fall off, until they got to the first hotel. A large bribe ensured a room, a doctor and a maid to look after Jack until he recovered. The doctor would be paid handsomely if he did, the hotel doubly so. But if he died each would be penniless by the end of the year.

Flick regaled the hotelier with tales of Jack's anger, and viciousness. His womanising and skill with a knife. The fact that once awake he would need a good strong man to keep an eye on him, and passed over a bag full of vials of 'medicine' that would keep Jack docile until he could return. The hotelier was wary but the bribe was more money than he'd ever seen, and he eventually agreed to Flicks request.

One month later….

The Maid and the hotelier were whispering in the corner of the room, glances where thrown over to the doctor who was examining Jack and shaking his head at the same time.

Finally the bespectacled medic strode over. "You need to send two messages, one to the Master of this man, and the next to the undertaker. I've done my best, I only hope that Mr Ruathen will be forgiving. You've been watching a corpse for the past few days"

"Are you sure sir? Mr Ruathen was most insistent this man survived. And his injuries seem to have healed." The Hotelier queried sadly. He could see in his mind's eye his business closing down and himself being cast out on the street.

The doctor drew himself up and huffed indignantly. "Sir I am at the top of my profession, I do not question you regarding the upkeep or the cleanliness of the hotel business, do not presume to question me!"

"But sir!" the maid quivered before squealing and falling into a dead faint.

"Shit! That bloody hurt you... where the hell am i? Who in the gods name are you?" Jacks voice rang through the room, the Doctor turned; the Hotelier looked up from ministering to the young maid. Both were pale, both exchanged glances that said between them that the previous conversation had never happened.

"HARRISON!" the hotelier yelled, "Harrison get here now!"

As Jack was attempting to get out of bed, thundering feet could be heard running along the corridor, the door burst opened. A young man took in the situation and threw himself towards Jack attempting to pin him down. The hotelier joined in the fray as the doctor grabbed a vial from the small cabinet in the room, and cautiously approached the struggling men. As the man called Harrison managed to gain the upper hand the Doctor broke open a vial and managed to pour most of it into Jacks mouth. As the doctor and Harrison held Jack down, the hotelier held Jacks nose forcing him to swallow the pungent liquid before he could breathe again.

Slowly Jacks eyes closed, he attempted a half-hearted struggle before he was still. The three men still held their positions for another 5 minutes before relaxing themselves.

For a fortnight Harrison watched Jack like a hawk, at the beginning each administration of the vial was a struggle, till eventually he just sat there waiting, not eagerly, but patiently like a child. Flick eventually came to collect Jack, a large black carriage hid all from view. Within a matter of hours Flick and Jack were gone from the hotelier's life. Only to be replaced with a very large bag of money and one unanswered question, which neither the maid, the doctor nor the hotelier could answer, the rough draft of retcon, already working its way through their memories. Only Harrison would remember anything about the strange man.

The trip back passed for Jack in a haze, the woman in his head strangely silent. Flick ensured that they travelled mainly at night, but Jack didn't care. The nightmares were gone, his oblivion all too pleasant. Miles above them, the phases of the moon kept watch over the carriage as it bumped it's way to Paris.


	17. Chapter 17 The Gentlemans Club

Deep inside the protected place of Jacks mind, the air swirled. The light fragrance of the plumeria danced gently on a breeze whilst whispers ghosted the wind. Soft laughter, small cries of joy, the occasional whoop of surprise. The woman locked in the plant's hold moved her eyes to watch the pollen dance. Under the wraps of the creeper she smiled.

It was a weary smile, a lot of the joy had disappeared from her life, but here she had no choice but to relax. As she did she became more aware of a familiar laugh; she smiled to herself remembering the day the Doctor entered her previous life. They had met only once, but he'd had such a spellbinding effect on her. She remembered the swirling red coat, and the extra-long scarf, the mop of curly hair over the childish, mischievous eyes. But those eyes disorientated and cheated you. They hid the depth of his guile. One moment he was offering jelly sweets, the next disarming weapons, or running towards the inevitable explosions, only to cheat and turn the thought process on its head and save everything. She felt a small tinge of jealousy against Jack, he'd travelled with him. Albeit a different incarnation of him, but it was still him. They'd visited other times and places without the bureaucracy of red tape the agency insisted on before each mission. She breathed deeply; it had been her decision not to go with him. She had walked away knowing that he would never come back into her life. She let the regret go, now was no time for her memories. The scent of the plants tiny flower filled her, and slowly she became aware of a gradual loosening of the binding. Two questions sat in her mind. Why did Jack have Plumeria in his mind? She was aware that Flicks wife adored the flower; did he have some link to them both?

She dozed as best as she could; dreaming of her previous world, her life before she took up with the agency, and her final mission to protect the Director. . She could feel a presence in front of her, no there were more than one, several, her eyes snapped open. In front of her stood a small child, holding his hand was another, this one held in his hand an old gas mask, behind him machines stood, she recognised the Daleks instantly, who didn't these times?. Alongside them stood a grey woman, blinded, tubes snaking out of her and dragging on the floor, robots and androids, humans and non- humans, Soul walkers, kings and princesses. Each one stood in front of her waiting as patiently as a stone.

She dozed again, this time a gentle touch woke her, the young child had torn away some of the bindings and slipped his hand into hers. With his touch she heard his voice inside her own head

_Help him. Free him. We can only watch; we are no more real than stardust. The icon can help him. You need to trust the daughter of the last, as she and the heart's breath will help him. We're a part of him as he is a part of us. We cannot let him sink into oblivion. _ The child looked away towards a shadowy figure waiting at the edge of the veranda. Unsubstantial and wavering, it could only be seen on the edge of vision, like a ghost in a room.

_If he fails, the world's we know will become as tormented as time. He knows he is missing time but he cannot remember why. We the Watchers have been time, and yet we NEED MORE TIME!_

Every single figure in front of her cried out the last three words. A cacophony of sound blasted her bindings away, pushing her back against the rail running around the veranda. Falling to her knees she knelt there for goodness knows how long, but she felt the presence of the memories disappear leaving her alone.

Unseen hands helped her up, and carried her through to the kitchen. A kettle boiled and a cup of hot milky tea was placed in front of her. She didn't hear the words, they simply appeared in her brain

_DRINK_

_Who are you?_

NOT WHO, WHAT ARE WE? WE ARE THE REMNENTS OF HOLDING, HE DOES NOT REMEMBER US. PERHAPS IT IS BEST. WE ARE THE BEGINNING, MIDDLE AND END. WE ARE T.A.R.D.I.S BORN. AND WE WATCH.

Another mug appeared along-side her empty one. She couldn't remember drinking the first.

USE THIS TIME TO KEEP HIM HERE AND REPAIR HIM. LET HIM KNOW HE IS NOT ALONE. HE WILL NEVER BE ALONE. WE ARE HIM.

The shadows vanished as a cry echoed through the air. A wavering figure stood in front of her.

_Jack?_

"It hurts_" _ The figure whined before it vanished. Time passed in this place of memories, before a stronger image stood in front of her.

"It's burning; inside it feels like I'm filled with fire. Jack cried out, his figure hunched and scared. She patted the chair beside her, gesturing for him to sit down.

_I need you to relax. No! Don't think of what he's doing, you won't like it._

The figure of Jack looked towards her, the hope in his eyes shone. Then the spark died, Jack involuntarily moved; he looked as though he'd been blasted in the chest with a pulse pistol. His arms were flung out to the sides, each and every nerve in his body could be seen lighting up as the electrical impulses from his brain overloaded. The figure of Jack wavered and vanished again with an agonising howl.

She made another mug of tea for herself and an additional cup of coffee, and then waited. She didn't have to wait long before he appeared again. This time he looked haggard, tear tracks ran down dirt stained face.

_What's happening out there?_

"Recycling… he thinks there's something in my blood. He knows there's something different about me, that I didn't die when I should have, so he's washing my blood, mixing it with various concoctions that Suzanne left and trying them on me. Sometimes I can't see, sometimes I can't breathe. I feel as though I'm on fire. Then he tests it throughout the opium dens. Most die. They're lucky. Others go insane._ "_

_Stay here Jack, Weather it out. You're safe here. _

"I can't. He comes and talks to me sometimes." He paused, obviously thinking. "He knows about you"

_Tell him I'm still bound, - I may as well be – all I can do is make tea_, she took a sip of tea from the mug in front of her before screwing up her face in disgust_- and I'm not very good at that!_

Jack wavered again and vanished. The light in and around the building started to fade, the swamp around them took on a more menacing air. Noises from unseen mouths came from the swamp. The swamp took on life and started to crawl towards the building. She stumbled towards the window scanning the foreground for what, she wasn't sure, but soon enough she found him. A figure stood, confident and waiting patiently. The swamp crawled behind him. She noticed another figure on the ground, curled into a tight ball. A bright blue leash led from the figure on the ground to the hand of the man by the swamp who seeing her at the window yelled out:-

"He's mine now lady, He needs me and will do my bidding. I know you're in there Lady. He's almost given in, and once he has then you're mine! With you and the key the agency will never be, I can right the wrongs it agreed to"

_I need help, I cannot stop this myself! _ She cried out. She hobbled towards the main door, attempting to light every single light in each room as she made her way there. _ I need the light to see the dark. I need the light to see the dark_. She repeated it to herself like a protective mantra. Slowly another voice joined. "_I_ brought the light to see the Dark" A brighter light was behind her. Several voices joined the chant. She looked behind her; each memory stood holding a orb of light. She stood at the doorway, with the swamp surrounding the building, a putrid smell washed over her, noises and howls could be heard from its centre. Something was pushed into her hand. "Conquer don't submit" was whispered into her ear. She looked down at the object. She knew of only a few people having one of these. She raised the sonic device over her head and pressed the button. The light from every single memory joined as one and focused on the device. In one moment it pulsed. The light shot out as a single wave rapidly covering ground, burning through the swamp, turning its overhanging, putrid mess of darkness into soft gentle life. The creeper that had bound her wrapped its tendrils around willow trees, and again the gentle smell of the plumeria wafted through the air, a voice echoed softly around the house.

_I BROUGHT THE LIGHT AND UNCHAINED THE DARK. I AM THE DARK AND THE LIGHT. NEITHER ONE NOR THE OTHER, BUT I WILL WATCH ALL._

She watched the swamp retreat, the noises became fainter. On the ground by the pathway lay a figure. Curled in the foetal position it stayed there; its hands covered its head.

_When you're ready coffee will be on the table. There are something's that you need to do yourself Deoc. _ She shouted out across the overgrown lawn

She turned on her heels and returned to the kitchen, knowing that she would have him here with her for a while. The echoes of her chant still reverberated around the building

~oOo~

Cornelia stepped into the dimly lit room; it stank of stale air and intoxicating smoke. Even through the re-breather she could taste the smell. Rancid odours of sweating bodies, lying there in the heat, unable to move, lifeless though not totally devoid of life, unseeing eyes stared towards her. This place was almost a hellhole. What the hell was he doing here? She peered round the room as the half-light cast strange shadows against the walls. Bodies sprawled across the floor, oblivious to the smoke or the stench. Well this was a different type of Gentlemen's Club she thought, although most of these poor wretches were no longer gentlemen. Oh they may have been at some point in time, and they may at some point be again, but these were no longer the men they thought they were.

The bells of the Cathedral clanged loudly, calling the masses to prayer. If they only knew what was actually going on here. These filthy drug addled idiots, were waiting for the new gods. She delicately stepped over a prone body, towards the solid door at the end of the room. Her heels clicked lightly against the once fine parquet flooring. The man in front of her sat up suddenly and with closed eyes faced her. She froze. Time passed slowly. She slowed down her breathing even more. The man in front opened his eyes and looked directly at her. His eyes were the deepest emerald green she had ever seen. He seamed to be in the middle of an internal struggle, when he finally spoke his voice was hoarse.

"They're coming. Run."

She still didn't move. With a large exhale the man returned to his original position and carried on taking in the fumes from the smoker next to him. Her curiosity had pushed her far. There was no way she was going back now. Besides he'd asked for help. She breathed deeply from the re-breather attached to the filter. The air in this room was more than dangerous; it gave you a slow painful death. She snorted, a wave of nausea swept over her. She fought it down. The addiction you craved was worse than death, and the man she sought was deep inside.

The door was the most solid part of this room. The hinges were ornate, the lock, difficult but do-able. The question was though - would she have time to pick it, or should she attempt to kick it open? Neither was a viable option at the moment. She reached into the pack she'd brought with her, and withdrew a small bottle. She offered up a small prayer to whatever gods were listening and uncapped it. Even with the re-breather she could still smell its fumes. Very quickly she applied three drops to the lock and replaced the cap with even more speed. She hated this stuff. It was photosensitive. A tiny drop on the skin would cause it to blister and turn the pus into an acid and make its way down to the bone, where it would leach out the calcium and poison you from the inside. It turned metal into a grey powder, it leached everything it touched. What little light there was in the room, would make the chemical reaction a little slower, but quieter.

Two minutes later she pushed against the door gently. The lock crumbled to dust. The light blinded her. Where was the light coming from? Muffled from the Re-breather, she called out, only to be answered by a frightened childlike reply.

She concentrated hard, and her eyes grew dark, as though wearing internal sunglasses. She smiled to herself. _Expensive mods, but so worth it._ She reached out to the figure on the table. Tubes and wires spread across his body. Energy bands strapped him to the table, from his neck, wrists and groin small tubs were pumping something though him. He was changing, the process was changing him. Her touch soothed him. She quickly took in the state of him. He was a filthy, un-kempt mess, almost on the point of starvation.

She stared a moment too long at the tubes attached to him, making herself feel sick.

"Oh for crying out loud. What have you got yourself into? What has he done to you?" she whispered


	18. Chapter 18 Saving Jack

"Help us please" he begged

She looked round searching for the 'us' but there was only him, lying there prone for the world, fluids being transferred from his body to some sort of filter and back again.

She strode round the table ducking under one set of tubes and striding over another to stare at the filter unit.

"Who i's us? Where is the other one? Who did this?"

"Phire in my mind" He whispered "Flick… It was Flick who did this, He knows about Phire. He knows about you."

She pulled gently at a tube. He screamed in pain. She turned her head, as she was sure there was another voice within that scream. Biting her lip and tilting her head she pulled the tube again. Again underlying his scream was another voice. He spoke haltingly through the pain

"The filter first. Stop. The. Bloody. Filter."

"I need the light to see the dark"

The words overlapped each other, yet still audible; his rough voice punctured the softer female voice.

She quickly scanned the unit. There seemed nothing to turn it off. So raising it above her head she dropped it on the floor. As it cracked open she watched a milky liquid seep from it. A sour strawberry smell soon identified it. Fraticain. On the majority of galaxies through out the universe this was a banned substance. Most users soon became reliant on its effects. It gave them what ever they needed. Whilst eating away at the user, it would give them an illusion of control. Then slowly its hold would become tighter. For an inanimate thing, it was insidious; taking whilst giving. The Osaka Priestess' really knew how to twist depravity, the drug was made from their own beautiful blood. Blood of the dying. That's what Fraticain really meant back on Osaka. The withdrawal and climb down were filled with nightmares and bone cracking. You would have to be an inordinately strong person to wean yourself from the drug, but the craving would always be there. She'd seen the rehabilitation of users, watched them turn themselves inside out to get more. It became procedure to just allow those reliant on the stuff to be marshalled to some holding unit and let them drug themselves into nothingness.

With the unit broken the smell became unbearable. She tore off the original re-breather and snapped another over her nose. In the echo of her own mind she could hear the alarms going off; switching to sensory, her ears confirmed the alarms. Flick's home was at least 10 minutes run from here; his staff would be rolling to the building and waiting to take her down. He'd already promised her that.

She pulled at the tubes going into Jacks stomach, neck and wrists. With each pull he arched in pain. Tears rolled down his cheeks.

She helped him sit up. "You saved me, I owe you. This stuff will kill even you. " she whispered in his ear.

He stood, so very wobbly. He gratefully took her shoulder as support and together they stumbled towards the door. They felt the first blast from the explosions beneath their feet. Jack fell against her.

"He's burning the place, always said he would." he mumbled

She felt the old cold wood of the door, half expecting it to radiate heat as the building burned, but there was no heat and no fire. Surprised she opened the door and promptly closed it again, leaning against it. She couldn't lock it; she'd seen to that earlier, she needed to buy them time.

"Shit!" Most of the bodies she'd stepped around were not simple addicts but slavers. And slavers usually meant a whole lot of trouble.

"Flick's here" he whispered. "Down stairs waiting, Phire can sense him"

She nodded, and leaving him standing, tried dragging some of the upturned equipment in front of the door. He stood there simply watching, before she gave up, and returned to deal with him and their escape. Half dragging and half walking she managed to get him to the filthy window, now she could smell smoke. The belts had finally set fire to the building.

"Wait! The package behind you. I need it, grab it"

"You need to get out of here. Nothing else is important" she replied

He turned on her and grabbed her lifting her bodily so that she came face to face with him. Before, in her many incarnations of Hunter, Slave, Lover and Wife she'd never seen anyone with such a desperate, humiliated, angry hunger as the man who stood before her.

"Without that package I can go nowhere, it's important." He growled,

She nodded and reached behind her, fumbling for the package. Its size gave no indication of what was inside; she pocketed it and pushed him closer to the window.

In the distance she could hear the chimes of the cathedral. Another wave of nausea swept over her the stench turning her stomach

_Not here;_ I really cannot be sick here. She had a thing about being physically sick, it turned her into a wreck, unable to do anything for at least 15 minutes after whilst she calmed herself down. That and Hart was the only thing she was unable to control about herself; and both weaknesses disgusted her. The window looked out over rooftops towards the spire of the cathedral. The bell rang is low solemn clang.

"Can you make the jump to that roof?" she asked him.

He nodded.

"Good"

She opened the window and he climbed out first. His leap, was more of a slow motion fall, he eventually landed mid roof, and skittered down until he managed to stop himself. As she balanced on the sill, the door swung open. Flick stood in its gap, two tusked slavers stood behind him. Behind them columns of smoke rose from the newly built fire in the floor below.

"You're not going anywhere lady" the slaver behind Flick growled.

Flick simply held up his hand to silence the creature behind. "I warned you; leave my employ and you'll regret it. He'll let you down. He lets everybody down. Besides that he belongs to Hart"

She shrugged, "Maybe, Maybe not. You can't kill him like that Flick, it's inhumane"

As she leapt from the window after Jack she missed his words. "He's not human any more.. There's enough shit in his system to take down a whole planet, at least until he gets me the key."

Flick moved calmly to the window. "Get me the key, I'll have the antidote for him." He shouted into the darkness.

~~~oOo~~~

They'd fled the burning building, slipping over tiles, sliding down roof tops and leaping from one roof to another, in their hurry to get away. Eventually they leaned against a warm chimney stack.

"What the hell was that about Jack?"

"Who the hell are you? And why have you been watching me?" He replied

"I asked first, and I did rescue you"

He sighed and looked out across the rooftops. "I have a little problem… Well several really, but this one I think I can control, but I just can't control her! " Cornelia raised her eyebrows in question.

"…she's stuck in my head." He tapped the side of his head viciously.

"Continuously" Tap

"Talking" Tap

"Always" Tap

"Telling me" Tap

"What to do "Tap.

The taps were getting harder as though he was trying to tap his own brain out of his opposite ear, until Cornelia gently took his hand and stopped him. He smiled sadly

"Except she won't tell me why she's in here"

Cornelia sat quietly, once again the rain started it's soft weeping drenching them both, _Does it always have to rain on this damn planet?_ She remembered a name he had said in the room

"Lady Phire?" She asked

"MMM She was in the agency and sh.." Jacks mouth clamped shut before he could say anymore. By the look in his eyes, Cornelia could tell it wasn't voluntary.

_Don't say a word until I tell you to. I don't know her._ Phire warned inside his head.

In the dusk the moon was just becoming visible its crescent locking horns with the oncoming rain clouds. She took her battered hat from her pocket raised it to obscure the moon; then placed it firmly on her head to ward off the coming soaking from the rain. Beside her she could feel Jack start to shiver.

"It's gone midnight; come on you need to be warm" she told him

"Need food too, I'm starving" he replied

Jack was buzzing, he was free from the machine, yet he knew his task was not over. He made his way over the rooftops in front of Cornelia. A yelp made him turn round, She was slipping down the rooftop, heading straight towards him. She cannoned into him and they both continued the slide until they went over the edge and landed on the balcony below. He cracked his head on the floor, whilst she cracked his rib by landing on him. Lying on top of him she stared into his eyes.

"I'm sorry, but isn't that a little forward? Not that I'm complaining or anything, but I don't think I know your name" He smiled.

What she'd read was right, the man was an outrageous flirt, and unconsciously trying his pheromones on her. They didn't work. Her body fought her mind and her mind finally gave up as it gave in to the nausea; she rolled away from Jack and threw up over the side of the balcony.

"Was it something I said?" he asked full of innocence.

She curled into a ball, tears streaming down her face, her stomach still heaving. Jack crawled over to her and rubbed her back tenderly,

"Are you ok?"

She shook her head unwilling to admit to the weakness. "I… I think so,, I'll be fine, we need to find somewhere to hide; and I need to talk to Lady Phire, I know Velon is looking for her. He asked me to find her. "

They heard laughter below, the sound of a public house further up the street wound its way down to them.

"_Hide in plain view" _Jack remembered Josephs words from what seemed centuries ago, yet he knew it was only a year.

"He won't look for us in a pub, it's too open, he'll expect us to run and hide. Any luck, we can get a room, although I am disappointingly lacking on the money front." He pointed out

She rolled her eyes, "I don't expect you to have pockets in your birthday suit."

It was then Jack realised he was not only barefoot but also naked.

Jack dropped down from the balcony and swiftly mugged a drunk, who was more shocked to see a naked man in front of him, that actually being mugged. Out of decency Jack only took most of his clothes, left the drunk wandering the streets in just his underwear.

They edged their way through the crowded public house, all eyes on them, as they tried to find a quiet corner. A sour mouthed woman wandered over to them.

Jack turned on the 'Charm' whilst Cornelia rolled her eyes behind the woman's back. By the time he'd finished the woman had almost turned to jelly, and promised him what ever he wanted. She wandered back to the bar area, a little glance cast over her shoulder every other step, He waved warmly at her.

"What?" He asked to Cornelia's disapproving stare.

"That"

"She's getting real food, not the slop they usually serve, wine that hasn't been spat in, and by the time I've finished she'll want to pay us instead of vice versa. So what's wrong with a little flirting?"

Cornelia shook her head. "I really don't know what to say"

"Have you got a pen?"

She looked at him quizzically "Why?"

"I get the feeling that you being speechless doesn't happen very often, I'd like to make a note of the date."

The food was brought by a mean mouth man, who slammed the plates in front of them with such force Cornelia expected them to shatter. The gravy from the stew slopped over the edge. She watched Jack devour the food as though there was no tomorrow.

"It'll bounce" she warned

"Don't really care, I'm hungry"

"Christ Jack were you never taught manners? Don't speak with your mouth full."

"OK… you know about me, who are you?" he finally asked as he wiped the plate with a chunk of rough bread

"A Watcher"

"Really? One of those? I thought they were more ethereal"

She shook her head

"Oh… A Bounty Hunter. Am I the target? Why are you being so nice?"

"You _were_ the target, Collected in on you two years ago."

He looked confused. "I've never seen you before, and I would remember someone like you." He looked her up and down. She got the feeling she was being mentally undressed.

"Ellis Island, Jones brothers" was all she said

He nodded once in remembrance, unconsciously fingering the stolen collar, feeling for a wound on his neck.

"You died."

"Nah you must have been mistaken"

She leaned forward. It's very, very rare that I am mistaken Jack. You were dead. I closed your eyes against the moon, whispered the prayer of solace; and then called it in. If I had made a mistake the Highers wouldn't have, they have instruments that measure so much; they may as well be in the halls of the dead themselves waiting for you."

He sat back, thinking about what to tell her. She sat back in her chair and stared at him; then sent a message to the Highest of the Highers

LORD VELON. NEED INFORMATION ON A LADY PHIRE. THAT'S ALL INFORMATION I HAVE.

She didn't expect much of a response.

~~~oOo~~~

He sat watching the woman opposite, her long hair curled round her shoulders. Long spindly almost spidery fingers tapped impatiently on the table. Her rounded face was not beautiful but homely, welcoming and genuine. He could tell her eyes had been modified. They had that look about them, the once grey blue was turning slowly emerald green. He'd seen it before, often the eyes would change colour several times before returning to their original state.

She stopped tapping the table and ran her finger up and down the tall glass absent minded. She was thinking of something. Her face hardened momentarily then softened.

He felt his left eye twitch, something it had never done before. He glanced down at his hands, almost unseen he could see the tiniest of tremors starting.

"My name is… For this time frame… Cornelia. You do not shorten it, or turn it into a pet name IF you do I will make your life even more miserable than it has EVER been."

"Ok. Cornelia what"

"Hart" She mumbled.

"Hart? Stupid question I know but anything to do with the Psychopathic git otherwise know as John Hart?"

"Yeah we're related but don't worry he's on the top of my dislike list. Do you know what the following code means?" She read out loud the message imprinted on her retina. 'Trust brings the fire to the fore'

Jack slowly shook his head. "No idea. What do you mean 'related?'"

"I was married to the bastard" she replied.

~~~oOo~~~

The room they stopped in that night was small, dirty and smelt of something that the cat had dragged in, sat on, weed on, and then left in disgust at the smell.

She sniffed the air wrinkling her nose at the smell,

"This is the best they have?" he asked

"You don't want to see the others. I wouldn't house a Nerubian pack rat in them"

"Ah. That bad?" She nodded as she sat on the bed before jumping up rubbing her bottom.

"Something just bit me! You have the bed, I'll sleep on the chair"

"He _was_ married to you?" Jack backtracked to a previous conversation as her words finally sank in.

"Well when I say was, I mean we still are… sort of"

He looked at her incredulously. "You married him? What were you? Crazy? … no that's him…"

"Look Harkness, I haven't questioned your mistakes and you've made plenty since I came here…" she growled at him.

She stared at him, his skin glistened as a sweat sheen had started develop over him, his body shook slightly.

He stared through her no longer focusing; slowly the fit enveloped him. He tried hanging on to the table

"B..B..B..loody Tabbbbblets n.. n..now!"

The movement of the fit stopped him speaking properly, before he crashed to the floor taking the table over with him. She heard the snap of his arm breaking under the edge of it as both him and the table landed awkwardly.

His body wracked in spasms. His mind fleeing from the pain blossoming through his arm, found the familiar protected place and sensing an open door, hid inside.

~~~oOo~~~

It felt like hours had passed since she'd forced a tablet into his mouth and almost drowned him trying to get him to take the wine with it(she wouldn't trust the water in this place, she'd seen what they'd taken it out of). She still watched him for signs of…what she wasn't too sure, but she watched anyway. The smell of the room was beginning to get to her, the stink was making her feel sick, and she was desperately tired, she needed air, preferably fresh air, but in this city she'd take whatever flavour the air was as long as it didn't smell like this room. She wrapped her long black coat around her, the smell of the synthesised leather remained fresh despite the years of wear, and the unsavoury places she'd worn it. She took one more glance at the 'sleeping' form of Jack and left the room. The hotel was silent, sleep had finally overtaken the remainder of the guests and the bar had been cleared. She stepped outside to breath in the night air. She gravitated to the stables at the rear of the hotel, she's always loved animals, but the horses could always sense something different about her. The only one in the stalls flicked its ear in welcome, and stepped forward to nuzzle her. She leaned against its long face and sighed. She could hear Jacks soft footfalls as he made his escape. It was going to be one of those weeks she could feel it in her bones, at least this time it wasn't raining. She sat on a pile of clean straw and stroked the horse beside her. This little place was probably less full of life than the bed in the room both she and Jack had recently left. Her eyes slowly closed as sleep rolled over her. As she slept a familiar figure swaggered over her, a smile full of lust crept over his face. Hart had her right where he wanted her.

~~~oOo~~

Jack had woken with a start, the pain in his arm now a slow tingling sensation as the bones knitted themselves together. The craving was still there, but not as sharp, it was no longer a demanding feeling. Quietly he tiptoed round the room, he really didn't know her, hell he'd only seen her fight Steele, so why would she want to help him? She wasn't in the room, had she gone back for Flick?

_Why would she rescue you to go back for him? _

"I have to get out of here, I feel like I'm suffocating."

_She'll know you're going to try to escape._

He ignored Phire's words and grabbing a bag, he stuffed the package he'd stolen from that room into it before creeping down the stairs and heading off down the street. His bare feet hardly made a sound on the cobbles. The sliver of the moon shone down, radiating its pale light onto him as he silently made his way through the town.


	19. Chapter 19 Hotensia

Jack woke up with a smile on his face, and a leg sprawled over him, pinning him to the bed. He ran his hand over a very shapely leg, smooth, delicate, he smiled at the memory. It had been an exceptionally fun filled night. She'd seen to that; between the two of them they'd picked up a rather tasty individual and his luggage.

~~oOo~~

He'd left Cornelia in the stables, just a distant inconvenience, and he'd ran. The badly fitting clothes chaffed in places he really didn't want chaffing. Throughout the day he kept in the shadows until he'd found someone his size and build. He followed them before quickly knocking the man unconscious and stealing his clothes, and redressing the now naked man in the clothes he'd originally stolen. He smacked his lips, he needed a drink, anything would do.

His rescue by Cornelia was a distant memory, being eclipsed by the craving growling deep inside his stomach. He ordered food, only to look at it before leaving it. It wasn't food he needed. He tried wine, but that too was no longer palatable. He sighed and stared round the room, every one was deep in conversation, some were serious, scowling faces and nodding heads, others whispering pleasantries in their lovers ears. A raucous laugh floated across the room. But each and every conversation was punctuated with the speaker's hand movements. Some were small movements, others expansive. Jack smiled to himself briefly…

_If you cut off their hands they'd not be able to talk. What is it with these people?._ The voice in his head laughed

It was then he caught her eye. She smiled seductively and wandered over.

"Not hungry?"

"Thought I was, turned out I was wrong."

"You and I are in a similar situation, I have something you may want."

He raised and eyebrow. She leant further forward showing a perfect sweetheart chest.

"Not here, too … respectable…"

He laughed, the first time he'd done so in a long time.

"Well let's find somewhere more suitable for the dastardly deal." He offered his arm in a gentlemanly manner, "My lady…?"

"Hortensia. Please don't laugh, my father thought it sounded nice".

"Where I come from it means something rather…" he paused

"It's rude isn't it"

He nodded before continuing "But then every name is bound to be rude somewhere in the universe. So where are we going?"

She smiled before refusing his arm and walking away. He'd never seen such a movement displayed so perfectly before. Her hips swayed hypnotically, her skirt only moments behind her hips, flicked out on the return journey. This was a sashay to die for. He could have watched it for hours, had she not turned slightly questioning whether he was going to follow. Rapidly he placed stolen money on the table before doing just that.

He followed her from the café through the town to a smaller darker café, closer to the river, and into the more depraved parts of the town. Together they sat down at a dirty table, where a disinterested waitress made a half-hearted attempt at moving the dirt around rather than cleaning it away. A bottle of wine and two glasses were placed on the table, unnoticed by Jack and Hortensia.

"So here we are then" Jack was slightly uncomfortable. He'd done this a thousand times, he shouldn't be feeling so…

…_wrong? You ran out on the woman who saved you, and have fallen back into the old ways. You left her to deal with that… that – for the want of a less unsavoury word – moron with no backup or chance of help._ Phires voice admonished him. _ You are really a coward Jack. There's life in the outer rims who idolise who you were and who you become._

"_Shut the hell up Phire. And stay away from my guilt buttons, for once I'm all about me"_

"_Once? Of all the…? You really are beyond me." _He felt the indignant mental shrug. The sigh whispered through his brain.

"…I said I believe I can get you what you want, if you give me what I want" Hortensia repeated. He raised his eyebrows suggestively,

"And that is?" he left it hanging. Silence descended a moment whilst she toyed with the stem of the wine glass. Her fingers moved up and down it, stroking it almost sexually. She watched as a young soldier self-consciously wandered in and made his way to an empty table, the waitress plonked a bottle and glass on his table without ceremony. Hortensia turned to Jack,

"Let's play corruption Jack, He's your target, if he joins us I'll get you your…desire"

He looked over, the young man was sat alone, a melancholy look over him as if in his own personal misery. Jack knew that feeling well. He nodded at Hortensia, before scraping his chair back and made his way to the bar and grabbing a large bottle of wine and two glasses. He stood in front of the soldier and grinned.

"Hello. Mind if I join you?"

The man shrugged "It's a free world – at the moment- do as you please" He raised his head, and looked straight into Jacks eyes. The man had the greenest eyes he'd ever seen, and an almost sad puppy look.

"I see you've come prepared anyway"

Jack laughed, "Had to try, aren't you a long way from your unit?" Jack had noted the uniform yet there was something odd about it, it wasn't quite right.

"Further than you can imagine, I didn't care for the way they fought, so I left. Who's the woman you were with? She smells nice, very Vanillia."

"She's called Hortensia, Can't say I've noticed her perfume"

"Hmmm not very observant are you?... I'm sorry that was impolite of me. I can be rather direct."

~~oOo~~

Three hours later and the craving was sending him mad, an itch had started beneath his skin, crawling up his arms towards his torso, and no amount of surreptitious scratching would make it go away. She'd joined them both at the table at the insistence of Tomas and flirted outrageously with them both. Hortensia looked at Jack, a flash of distain flickered across her face, before she discreetly reached into her little pull string bag and withdrew a vial of thick sticky black fluid and passed it to him under the table. He snatched it from her and excusing himself, made his way outside to a dark alley alongside the café. As he broke the vial the shaking and itching almost proved too much as he managed to eventually ingest the drug. The eventual relief was rapid, fuzzy and warm. He leant against the wall before slowly sliding down it, wrapped in his own personal hell.

~~oOo~~

He felt the presence before opening his eyes to see who it was. He felt hands picking him up, and leaning him back against the wall. Overlaying smells of vanilla, leather, gardenia and cinnamon wafted around him. He opened his eyes and smiled at the sight. Tomas was leaning over him, an arm either side of Jack, stopping him from escaping; his once green eyes were lightening to an almost yellow green. His smile was predatory. He turned to Hortensia who was laughing, and reaching out to Jack.

"Mine" Tomas' words were almost a growl,

"Ours" she replied.

"Mine first" Tomas countered before leaning into Jack and kissed him hard. Hortensia laughed before taking a drag on a drug filled cheroot. Tomas smiled again.

"Want more?" he asked Jack

"Much more" Jack replied thickly. Hortensia nodded, "Not here, I know somewhere we can be alone together"

"Close?"

"Maybe, but much grander than here"

~~oO~~

They travelled the night in a compartment by themselves. The train rattled through the night, the steady clickety click as the train ran over the joins in the track, were punctuated by their laughter, moans and occasional gasps.

The three of them had no visible cares, Jack was running steadily from Flick, constantly ignoring the admonishments from the woman in his head. Tomas on the run from his army fellows, and Hortensia was simply along for the ride. The eventually disembarked in a small place, miles from anywhere. The two men were led by Hortensia through a long wooded path stopping occasionally to help themselves to each other, only to break it off before it got too intense. The path opened up to a lakeside with a large chateau built alongside the shore line. The crossed the bridge to get to its front door.

Tomas looked critically at it. "It's a little tacky"

"I'd say more kitsch" Jack disagreed

"I don't care, welcome to my temporary home. Its comfortable, furnished, and above all no one has been here for months." Hortensia smiled

The walked through the door and marvelled at the splendour inside, no one noticing the carving on the stone frame of the door "tempus et veritas est spiritus aufert cor" * before falling on each other and losing any inhibitions they may have had before.

Their attentions to each other finally led them to a room upstairs where exhausted they fell asleep in a heap on the rather large bed situated in the middle of the room.

~~oOo~~

He smiled as his eyes took on the devastation they'd made in the room, clothes were strewn all over the floor and on various items. An arm was flung over him pinning him further.

He looked as best he could for Tomas. Most of his clothes were here, but he could not be seen. A cacophony of bird sound raised the alarm as a howl was on the edge of jacks hearing. But closer to his own ears he could hear Hortensia mumbling in her own sleep.

"He's here… no! I've got him, let me have it please." her voice trailed into a whine.

Gently he shook her.

"Wake up 'ten it's a dream"

"please I've earned it, I've got him for you. He's at the chateau. NOOO!"

She screamed the last words waking herself before sobbing into Jack's chest.

Gently he stroked her hair, and held her closer.

"Shss, it's a dream, just a dream your safe here."

Tear stained eyes looked up at him, "I'm sorry Jack, they know"

Fearful jack slid out of bed

"Who knows what?"

"The ones who are chasing you, He wants what is his" She followed him out of the bed.

"He wants the key and he's on his way."

A rage filled Jack, the anger of years of wandering in the dark loneliness of this planet. The frustration of being abandoned and finding his way here rose.

On the edge of his hearing he could hear a door opening and slamming shut. He grabbed Hortensia by the throat lifting her easily from the ground.

Jack was shaking uncontrollably now; the rage of the betrayal bubbling beneath the surface caused him to spit out each word like a nasty taste.

"You told Flick I am here."

* * *

A.N

*time and truth is a hearts breath away – google translation eng to latin


	20. Chapter 20 The Chateau

Apologies for the long delay. unfortunatley this is not beta'd so all spelling, grammer are all my own mistakes. please enjoy the chapter. all reviews comments pleas not to write anymore will be warmly taken

* * *

Chapter 20

They stepped away from the wooded pathway and straight into view of the Chateau. It looked rather like a large mansion house with a few turrets stuck on for good measure, rather than the imposing, fortress it was supposed to be. It stood proudly in the midst of a lake. Its causeway jutted rather precariously over the edge of the lake, and balanced on arches made of delicate stone work rather than the good solid brick or stone that she preferred.

At the edge of the property stood a circular tower, no windows could be seen from the direction they stood. Both the tower and the house were built with white stone; age had not diminished its brilliance. The roofs were grey slate; each one fitted so closely it almost looked as though the roof had grown over the buildings, covering each and every nook and cranny, each turret covered with a perfect circle of slate. The house looked like a life-size representation of a doll house, the windows seemed false, there was no sense of life within it, it was all for show, a distraction to the real home of the icon.

Cornelia tugged on the chain in her hand, pulling her captor closer to her.

"What?" his sullen voice asked.

"Is this the place?" she asked

"Apparently… It looks a little…well new"

"It's the place that taste as well as history forgot I think. So, are you going to be a good boy and come with me quietly or do I have to keep you bound to me until we go inside"

He had the grace to look apologetic for a moment, before a leer erupted. "If I'd have known you were going to be so domineering, I'd have tried to kill you more often."

"Frak sweetie." she replied absently

"Now that I would love to but you have me at a disadvantage" he held out his hands hoping she would sever the links, and free him.

"Only until we get to him and the Icon." She tugged at the rope, pulling him along with her over the ostentatious bridgework leading them to the door.

He dragged behind like a problematic toddler and complained endlessly about everything. The fact that the clothes were not to his liking; there was a stone in his boot. The chateau was too gaudy, until finally Cornelia exploded at him.

"You… ungrateful… moronic, hateful, pathetic baggage. Do you really think I'm enjoying this? I need to drag you along like I need another hole in the head. I didn't bring you 'cause I wanted to; I brought you because I have to. Besides it's your own fault, you wanted to play double or quits."

He grunted remembering the game the previous week

~~oOo~~

Hart had come to her – somehow he always knew where to find her. Apparently he'd seen the picture in Flicks book. He'd been lazily turning the pages and defacing them. As he'd erased his pencil marks from the edge of the pages, he'd blown the rubbings away. As the rubbings scattered across the page, the pattern they'd made over the picture, had become a realisation to him. He knew where the chateau was. He'd never been in, but he'd watched it being built all those centuries ago – or was it simply last week? Time travel played havoc with the memory. With his re-discovery of her he'd issued the challenge; something that she knew she shouldn't have accepted. The words "I'll play you for control" always got to her, hence her current predicament: She was currently sat on a cold hard stool, almost naked, staring blindly at the cards. They didn't make sense. She'd always been useless at cards. Hart had always marked them and used them against her. She sighed, closed her eyes and laid the cards face up on the table.

"I suppose you win, so you're the boss lets go"

She wasn't sure she heard it at first

"Mumble mumble"

"What?" She opened her eyes and looked at him. He was down to his trousers, his jacket and shirt tossed casually aside lay next to her neatly folded clothing. He always did look good.

"How did you get those cards? you've won" she caught the hidden meaning

"I don't cheat. I never have cheated. To cheat and win I have to know how to play the damn game and I don't know how to play bloody poker!" she leaned over the table yelling at him. The force of her anger at being accused of cheating pushed him back.

"Double or quits then"

"No!"

"Double or quits and I'm yours to do with as you please for a week, but if I win, you're mine for a week"

She looked at him, searching for any hint of what she couldn't tell, but she knew she couldn't trust him.

"I win we find Jack?" she asked

He nodded enthusiastically

"But if I win, we find Jack and I get to kill him, once Flick has finished with him, it won't take long, I know where he's gone" he replied.

She considered the proposal for a moment, she didn't really care what Hart wanted to do to Jack, after all if what she had seen was right Harkness couldn't die but she did care about what Flick wanted. Her research into the painting of the icon had given her an idea of what Flick wanted. He wanted the agency disbanded or even worse never created, the Time Lords wiped out before the Daleks were a twinkle in Davros' eye. No death, no changes, the universe would only exist; a never ending state of now, it would never evolve.

She watched as Hart dealt the cards again. Always a master of sleight of hand she didn't see the card being dealt from the bottom, but despite everything he still lost, hence his little predicament now.

~~oOo~~

Hart looked down at the floor mumbling, she turned angrily

"What?" she demanded

"I'll be good if I can have one little weapon back"

"Is that what this is about? "

He nodded, "I feel kind of naked without something to back me up"

"You don't need a weapon; I've seen you kill quite happily without one."

"When?"

"Delta Quadrant. The Flasty with the big teeth. The one that stalked you for a change"

He paused thinking back

"Oh yeah forgot about her, she deserved it though. She followed me for six whole days. It could have been classed as a mercy killing, I mean she was as ugly as ugly can be. Her whole tribe had banished her; I mean she could turn milk sour by passing by."

"You don't need to explain yourself to me. And by the way…it wasn't female… and it didn't want to have sex with you. He wanted to kill you for taking his wife, brother and sister, killing them and then taking the loot. Actually I think he was more bothered about the loot than anything else."

"Did I do that?" he asked innocently.

She looked at him, shaking her head in disbelief, before she relented and dropped her bag to the floor. She rummaged inside it, and withdrew a large smooth object. Its oval shape sat snugly within the hand. The thing was an overall earthy colour with flecks of silver that caught the light as she moved it.

"Here you can have this"

He took it as she released the bonds from his wrists and ankles. She kept the chain round his neck, but held the other end loosely in her hand

He looked down at the thing then back at her.

"What is it? I've not seen this style before; he turned it over looking for the switch. The back of the thing was as smooth as the front, although a small bump could be seen in the centre. He pressed it. Nothing happened. She smiled to herself before hefting the bag back on her shoulder.

She had to tug the chain slightly as he was stood still trying to get the thing to work.

"Come on"

His long strides enabled him to catch up,

"So how does it work? I've seen everything from the mercenaries, but never this"

"It's something that this planet has rather a lot of" she smiled.

She stood outside the impressive doors and knocked. No one answered. She tried again. There was still no answer. She took the thing from him and used it to bang against the door.

"Hey! That's mine!" he sulked

Rolling her eyes she gave it back to him.

"Well you use it then."

He looked at her then the thing in his hand, confused he raised it to the door again, but before he could put its use into practice the door swung open, revealing the gaudy entrance behind it.

They wandered inside the hall his soft boots making no sound, whilst her steel tipped heels clicked across the floor. A forlorn howl could be heard from another room, they looked at each other.

"You know I'm not going to be much help if I'm still tied to your apron strings dear." He pulled at the chain. She watched him owlishly, before relenting and unclipping the length of chain.

"The collar remains. I need to know where you are"

"Don't worry I won't start playing with my finds unless you're there. I know how badly you sulk if you're left out of things. I told you buttons were not toys but you still went and pressed it"

He chuckled, obviously remembering a moment in their past.

The howl arose again.

"Kitchen"

"No Gardens" he replied.

"Split?"

"As always 50/50…but he's mine."

"No John not yet, I need him alive, you get to play later"

Hart turned on his heal "We'll see who gets to him first, besides I'll only kill him a little bit"

As Hart left the hallway a scream echoed down the marbled stairs. She looked upwards, listening again. Was that scream real or in her head? In answer another scream barrelled down the stairs. Taking them two at a time she bounded up the stairs. The upper hall way was a range of doors, each one tightly closed.

~~oOo~~

Jack was shaking uncontrollably now; the rage of the betrayal bubbling beneath the surface caused him to spit out each word like a nasty taste.

"You told Flick I am here."

She nodded her eyes wide and scared. He raised his hand to hit her, but something stopped him.

_Stop! She's as much as a victim as you are. Look at her. No really look at her. She has her own whips, the tracks on her arms, the marks on her neck. They weren't caused by you._

The voice of Phire subsided; it was all she could do lately to control him. She was weakening; the power of the drug was sapping her strength before it could attack his.

He lowered his hand, from the corner of his eye he saw the young solider race across the immaculate gardens, closely followed by; he recognised the figure at once. That was Hart; the long easy gait of his run gave it away. Even when chasing someone down he still oozed sex appeal and I don't give a dam attitude. He watched a moment longer, the woman sensing safety, crept around the side of him in an attempt to escape. His arm shot out and grabbed her by the scruff of the neck.

"Stay" he ordered, still watching the figures on the lawn.

The young man stumbled and fell to the ground disappearing behind a small hedge. Jack shook his head in disappointment. Hart strode over to where the young man lay. As he crouched down he fell backwards as something launched itself at him. Jack saw the flash of grey fur; then Hart scrabbling to get out of the way before running hell for leather back the way he came. Snapping at his heals was a very large dog.

_Ah ! A Shifter, so Hart is finally getting a taste of his own medicine. _Phires smug voice echoed around Jacks head

Behind him he heard the soft sound of wings unfurling, feathers moving over feathers, he looked towards the young woman he had gripped in his hand, she was no longer struggling but looking in anger towards the corner of the ceiling. He felt a sharp pain in his back and he was pushed into the woman.

~~oOo~~

Cornelia burst through the door way, to see a winged figure attacking Jack, pushing him into the soft arms of the woman he was holding. With a sense of urgency and foreboding she grabbed the nearest thing to hand and hurled it at the winged figure. The shoe hit with frightening accuracy, knocking the thing out of the way, and succeeding in diverting its attention from Jack, only to see it now focus on her. She gulped; this was a thing of her nightmares, she'd only seen them in pictures, part human, part cyborg, part hawk. Its face a mishmash of feather and machine, wings sprouted from an impossible body. The story was that these things had once been a breed of weapon. They decimated villages, took what they were told to and fed on anyone that was left. It half hopped half walked towards her, beady eyes calculating its chances. She glanced at Jack, who was struggling to stand, the woman he fell into holding him back, using him as protection, until he used his head and bit her hard. Her scream distracted the thing again and it turned to her; as it stalked towards her and Jack, Cornelia managed to grab his hand and drag him away from the thing and the screaming woman. Cornelia looked up towards the woman intending to assist her in escape from the walking myth was she saw that there was no longer a single woman there. But as in a double exposure photo there was an overlapping image of the same woman, although the overlaying one was slightly different. A once soft beauty had now become a hard edged merciless beauty, her eyes now orange. As she screamed an angry reply to the thing a double row of razor sharp teeth were visible. Through the long raven hair the nubs of horns could be seen. Cornelia made a very quick and very rare decision; this one could fend for herself.

~~oOo~~

Together they manage to stumble out of the room, leaving behind them a sickening crunch of bone and metal meeting. With the noise behind them they stumble down the long corridor.

"Shit, wait here"

"What? Jack?..." Cornelia yelled at Jacks retreating back to watching him duck momentarily onto another room, before reappearing with his luggage bag

"Did you really need that?"

"Yes"

"We're in mortal danger and you stop for a bloody handbag?"

"You wouldn't understand" he mumbled

"Damn right!"

They skidded on polished wood floor and ended up in a heap at the top of the stairs.

Panting they stood there.

"It's gone quiet."

"They were evenly matched"

"What the hell were a Kwagoruh and a Fekawii doing here?"

He shrugged

She glared at him.

"The innocent look doesn't work" She looked back, together the Kwagoruh and Fekawii were walking calmly down the corridor towards them

"Tell me later! Run!"

They raced down the stairs taking them two at a time; they skidded around the bottom balustrade and made for the door. Jack reached it first and yanked at it. It wouldn't move, between the two of them they attempted only once more to open the stuck fast door.

They grinned at each other before racing off through the chateau.

"Just like old times in the agency" Jack yelled behind him at Cornelia, she simply grunted in response Rooms passed them in a blur, only as they skidded through doorways and around corners did they manage to get an idea of the room they'd passed through. A Flash of the orient, or a mix of Arabian, a dull English room, or vibrant French each room had its own theme.

"This is fun!" Jack gasped. "Not had this much since…" He lapsed into silence, the last time he had this much fun he'd been with Rose and the Doctor.

"If this is your idea of fun, you are seriously short of a sonic! Do you know what these two could do to your chances of being alive?!"

They skidded into another room, there were no other exits, and they were trapped.

"I do believe I'm ahead of the game there!" he laughed. The mix of adrenaline and craving was tripping him out. The feeling of sheer invincibility washed over him. Laughing he stood there as the two monstrous females stalked towards him, the wings of the Kwagoruh scraping the high ceiling. Cornelia cast around the room looking for a weapon; she needed to get in close to make some sort of impact on the Kwagoruh, its breast plate was engineered to be able to take most sharp implements buts its weak spot was its neck where the plating overlapped. "KITCHEN I'M IN A KITCHEN… WHERE'S THE DAMN KNIVES?" she yelled internally. She edged around the room, keeping the table between her and the Kwagoruh. The Fekawii advanced on Jack, her smile deadly, rows of razor sharp teeth were just about visible behind the fangs. He'd last seen fangs that long when he'd skinned a sabre tooth tiger.

Cornelia finally listened to the sound of her memory hammering inside her skull. This creature shouldn't be here, they_ were_ stuff of nightmares. They were non-existent, made up, stories to frighten children. Why the hell was it here? She felt her backside press against the stove; it was warm, indicating it had been on not that long ago. She searched her memory, in all the old stories the hero had used heat to destroy them. She offered up a silent prayer to which ever gods were listening as her questing hands attempted to relight the stove without her looking. The thing leapt at her as she felt the heat rise. She ducked and the Kwagoruh sailed over her bounced off the wall and landed on the stove. The flame caught at the thing, quickly enveloping it, and leaving nothing behind. There were no remains, no soot or any indication of the now dead Kwagoruh. She had no time to think. The Fekawii was rapidly advancing on Jack, and he was just standing there, laughing. Cornelia grabbed a pan from the hanger above her and aimed it at the head of the Fekawii. It missed its intended target but managed neatly to hit Jack on the forehead. Dazed he staggered back shaking his head before the impact actually registered with his brain, the over load of Adrenaline, craving for the drug, and now pain from an outside source overwhelmed his brain and shut down, sending his legs buckling and knocking him out on the floor.

As he fell, the Fekawii turned on her; the hiss it made seeped into her skull, making her shudder involuntary. Her hand grasped the handle of another pan. The thing advanced, Cornelia weighed the pan up, the thing lunged, but became distracted at the last minute as something crashed through the window and rolled to a halt. Cornelia swung the pan round hitting the Fekawii in the face. As it screamed, shards of broken teeth fell from its mouth, the thing that had come through the window unrolled and in one swift movement threw something very sharp and very shiny towards the howling creature. After that it howled no more.

"Miss me?" Hart swaggered, brushing shards of glass and bits of garden from him.


	21. Chapter 21 The Descent

"_Miss me?" Hart swaggered, brushing shards of glass and bits of garden from him._

~~oOo~~

"Ow!"

She looked at him before returning to the task of sewing a gash that followed his lifeline on his right palm, "Do you want to do this?"

He shook his head, "You sew neater than me, beside, I'm right handed. Water's boiling"

She glanced over to the stove, a pan of water bubbled happily to itself. Grabbing a handful of threads she threw them in to the pan.

"Remind me why I'm doing this. I don't know why you can't just use the nano's to repair yourself"

"I've told you already, they're for major stuff, broken things, stopping me from dying; that sort of stuff."

"You never told me that. So I wasted my time on Oaksdquit? The nano's could have repaired you then"

"You were having fun admit it. You like playing doctors. Besides I wasn't really in such a state to tell you that. Getting shot by an antique weapon and then electrocuted really took the edge off me"

She smiled more to herself at the memory. "That was a good day"

"For you maybe. Thread should be sterilised by now. Is there a blue one? I like blue"

She looked into the pan, the colours were mainly reds with the odd smattering of greens. "You're lucky I found these threads at all so don't get all picky. Strip"

His eyes lit up at her last command, and with her help and a great deal of wincing managed to remove most of his torn clothing, till he finally stood in front of her in just his pants, odd socks and his soft leather boots. She eyed him up and down, counting the deep lacerations the shape shifter had made. A bite mark on his shoulder looked raw. Old scars criss crossed his torso. She traced each scar with a gentle touch making him shiver in anticipation.

Gently she closed the deep cuts with neat stiches, with each pull of the thread, he took a swig of the remaining whisky they'd found and used to clean the wounds. Finally they sat in the kitchen staring through the broken window, slowly getting drunk on the alcohol he'd liberated when he'd unceremoniously dragged the unconscious Jack into another room and dumped him on a chaise.

"To old times" they toasted themselves.

"You know you have me at a disadvantage" he told her

"That'll be a first"

"You're still clothed and not as drunk as me so you can stop me doing the two things I really really want to do."

"And they are?"

"Kill that coward in there."

"That's not going to happen, not while he's to get the key.

"Then there's just the other thing I want to do"

She raised an eyebrow in question, as he stood and sauntered over to her,

Leaning forward he whispered. She could smell his heady mix of pheromones and whisky, She breathed deeply trying to ignore the feeling he woke inside her. Momentarily she closed her eyes. When she reopened then he was in front of her. His patched up body still looking so perfect, so ready.

"Stop it"

He moved slightly, flexing his muscles, showing off. _You hate him, Remember he's an Ex for a reason…Don't look, he's doing it purposefully, Look somewhere else…. NO not there! _Her eyes wandered around his body,

"You don't mean that" he replied

She moved away from him, the further she moved the further away from those wonderful enticing smells. Why the hell did he manage to always smell this good? He followed her.

"No John" She forced the words out. The words became a simple lie against her want.

"You're manipulating me. I don't want this"

He stood behind her. She felt a gentle touch as he stroked her arm. Slightly hissing in pain from the tightness of the stiches pulling his skin taught, ready to heal.

"We can play by your rules." He suggested.

She gave in and hung her head. He moved closer and wrapped his arms around her. His bare chest pressing against her cool silk covered back.

"My rules?" She asked.

"Yep"

He didn't see the smile. He just felt pain blossom through his foot as she stamped heavily on the soft leather with a very pointy stiletto. "My rules have changed. You want me, catch me" She sprinted away as he hopped on one leg smiling happily to himself through gritted teeth. "Suits me, and when I do you will severely be punished girl"

He ducked as an empty glass was thrown at his head, and smashed behind him.

"RUN little Girl" he yelled behind her fast retreating back. "And so the games begin!" he murmured happily to himself.

~~oOo~~

Several hours later, Hart untangled himself from the cover and tapestry that had wrapped itself around him and Cornelia as they lay on the floor. Cornelia's rhythmic breathing indicated she had fallen asleep. Already a pattern of bruises and scratches were showing on both of their bodies. Oh how he liked playing rough, Made him feel good. Now where were his trousers? He wandered through rooms, picking up items of clothing he'd let her remove and discard, in their game of cat and mouse. When finally dressed he wandered back through the rooms, this time taking in the different styles. Each room was dressed in a different time period. He picked up and inspected each loose element. His trained eyes knew them to be originals but not one of them were of his tastes, until he came to a room across from the one he had left Cornelia in. It was a cold copy of a room he had seen many years in the past, or was it the future? Sometimes time travel seriously played with his memory. He remembered the room though. The simplicity of the furniture, the darkness of the room hid the openness and the size. Alongside one wall were a variety of weapons, all looked deadly, all looked unused, although should the need arise; they would not be needing to be sharpened, that much he could tell.. A noise made him turn quickly, behind him a shutter had been opened slightly. Even with the best enhancements money could buy, he'd not heard them. But what completely gained his attention lay in a shaft of light created by the shutter. Almost gingerly he stepped over to it, and knelt in front of it. Carefully he reached out, His sensors working on overtime trying to detect a trap, but the sword was there for the taking. He'd seen this in ancient pictures; He'd travelled back in time chasing the sympathists and seen it in action where it had neatly decapitated one of them. It had a grace and beauty of its own. In the hands of an amateur it was a dangerous weapon. In the hands of an adept it could be lethal; in the hands of an expert samurai it had a life of its own. He reached out and took hold of the handle; the cold bone fitted his grasp perfectly. The balance could have been made just for him. He smiled as he stood, closed his eyes and weighed up the sword in perfect arcs. He feinted with it, practicing moves he learnt many, many years ago, still his eyes were closed.

On the edge of his hearing he heard footsteps. He swung round pointing the sword at the new entrant. On opening his eyes a petite and delicate woman stood before the tip of the sword. She moved it away from her. Emerald green eyes looked further into him than he would have liked. The pristine white gown, enhanced the dark flawless ebony skin.

"It's rude to point" She told him

"Who are you?"

"Do you like it?" She nodded at the sword

"It's unreal, it shouldn't be here" He replied

"But do you like it? I made it especially for you"

He nodded. Words seemed to fail him for once.

"Good," She raised her hand, towards his face; He pulled back, raising the sword again. She shook her head

"It's ok I'm not going to hurt you, I just want you to sleep"

As she said the words his eyes felt heavy, he could no longer keep his arm raised. He fought against sleep, but as always the arms of Morpheus wrapped themselves around him. A sigh escaped his lips as he sank to the floor and sleep.

~~oOo~~

Jack woke to the sound of stone grating against stone and a warm wind passing over him. The smell of coffee was lingering in the air. He rolled over; falling off the long lounger he had been sleeping on and almost on to the prone sleeping figure of Cornelia lying on the floor. Her blond hair trailing on the makeshift bed behind her, she rolled out of the way, exposing her back. He started at the sight of the ugly bruises across her back. Gently he finger traced them tickling her slightly, she mumbled in her sleep, rolling her shoulders trying to stop him. She rolled back wincing as she did. She opened one eye sleepily; a half smile crossed her lips before closing the eye again. A moment later both eyes opened wide, shock registering on her face. It was obvious to Jack she was not expecting to see him beside her. She tugged the makeshift sheet from under him to cover her nakedness. An ugly red scratch ran from beneath her chin down between her breasts.

"Get the hell away from me!"

"Hey… I didn't lay a finger on you"

"I know… just back off, let me dress. Go find coffee, Real coffee and food. I'll. I'll be there in a moment."

He stood gingerly, gazing around the room as he did. It looked as though a whirlwind had been through here. A once beautiful oriental styled room with silk hangings delicately painted with ibis and herons, cherry blossoms and stylised pictures of the east. The couch he had been sleeping on was the only raised piece of furniture in the room, it was the only thing in one piece too. All other items in the room had been destroyed in what could only be a rather vicious fight.

"What happened?"

"…Nothing"

"You sure did a lot of damage doing nothing…" A stifled sob interrupted him. "Are you ok?"

She replied in a tone that was not to be argued with.

"Yeah, go find food."

He followed a trail of similar destruction through towards the kitchen.

"What the hell happened?" he asked himself. A trail of blood ran from the large and now rather draughty kitchen window and on to the kitchen table. Needles and remnants of threads were scattered on a nearby chair. On the stove, a pan half full of water rested, inside it further threads. He opened a cupboard and found the cold room, inside fresh bread, ham, marmalades, a variety of jams, bacon, eggs. There was enough fresh food here to feed a small army, yet they had seen no one.

"Hey is there food in there? I could eat a horse." Cornelia's voice rang out in the kitchen.

"More than enough"

He backed out holding enough for a short breakfast which they ate in silence.

"So you gonna tell me what happened?"

She shook her head. "I'm not going to talk about it"

"You've decimated part of the house and you're not going to tell me why? Where's he gone?"

"He's just gone…" She stopped, watching the full coffee cup in Jacks hand roll as a slight tremor affected it. Rapidly he placed the cup on the table; his face became a pale as a slight sheen of sweat broke over his forehead. He bit his top lip, drawing blood,

"Bag"

"What?"

"I need my bag back, my dr..my medicine is in there" he corrected himself, he wasn't going to admit his dependence to anyone, even himself.

The fever and the longing came fast and quick, the convulsions almost immediately afterwards. He'd tried to hold on tried not to take the tablet he knew he should have done hours ago, He couldn't admit to the word. It was a dirty word to a man who boasted complete control, but this was one thing he couldn't. The woman in his head was screaming in pain, using her own drastically limited power to try and save him from his own pain that his body was inflicting on him. Their cries came out together the two voices intertwining into one primal cry echoed around the room.

Cornelia shook her head in pity. This was one thing they didn't need; the task ahead would be onerous enough. In the silence of her head she messaged the ship hovering outside the planet's atmosphere.

_SHIP SCAN HIM, WHAT DOES HE NEED?_

TRACES OF OPIATE, FRATICAIN, DIGITALIS, ALCOHOL,

_SHIP I NEED A REPRODUCTION. HE'S WITHDRAWING; HE'S NO GOOD TO ME LIKE THIS._

UNABLE TO REPRODUCE FRATICAIN, CAN ONLY EASE THE SYMPTOMS. SENDING NOW.

Within a heartbeat Jack had been scanned, and a replacement vial had materialised. She snatched it from beside her and with no amount of ceremony jabbed him in his arm. The sticky dark fluid flowed from the vial into him. She removed the needle throwing the remains into the sink behind her.

The convulsions slowed, his breathing no longer rasped, she pulled a chair close to him and sat there, watching, waiting for a sign of normality. Unseeing, tear filled eyes turned to her, his mouth opened to speak but nothing came out, slowly he toppled side wards and landed in her lap.

Absently she held him close as a mother would a sick child, and stroking his hair made soothing noises. Together they sat like this for over an hour before he started to return to his normal self

_You are going to have to admit it Jack._

"No There's nothing to admit, I 'm learning to control it, it's been longer this time" he'd been there a while, and for lack of anything else to do he'd started repairing the house, and resetting the traps. He was walking down the corridors of his protected house in step with the woman in his head.

_He's messed with your head, your memories are not all of your own, and it's taken me a lot of time and power to sort them. I learnt of some things that Velon would be interested in…_

"Hey! They're mine they were not general viewing. I followed orders did what I was told."

He had the grace to look slightly uncomfortable as she raised an eyebrow…

"Well… I followed most of the orders… OK! OK! I never was good at following orders, I got the results the Highers wanted, they were willing to accept them, no questions asked."

_It seams you learnt a lot from Hart and Steele. The pupil became the master as it were._

"For Steele yes. He had limits, some would say taste. The real master was Hart, it became first nature for him. He enjoyed keeping everyone off balance. Which are my memories?"

_The ones of yours are back within your rooms. I see you are still handy at putting up shelves, so the false ones are sat there, each fiction in its own little snow globe. I'm sorry Jack, I can't access the ones Holding took from you. It'll take something else to release them. You've made your time here worth it. Your protected place is back to its old standard. Bigger, I believe, with a few more little traps I see, especially in the kitchen. That's a good place for the entrance to cellars, you can hide lots of things in the cellars _

If I'm going to be here a while I'll be getting a lot more memories, I'll need somewhere to store them for recall when I'm in my dotage, whenever that will be.

_~~oOo~~_

Cornelia was considering poking Jack awake, she was beginning to get pins and needles in her bottom, where she'd been sat in one position with his head on her lap, when he finally started stirring. He opened an eye and turned his head to look up at her. "I know where the icon is" he told her.

"Cellar?" she responded

"How'd you guess?"

"Pantry door is open, the door to the cellar is in there, it's the only place I can think of hiding an entrance. Before we go anywhere, you get your bag, my weapons, and I'll make coffee, I am going nowhere before coffee."

_~~oOo~~_

"Why is it I always have to go down to get what I want?" she asked herself out loud

She heard Jack snort beside her," Really?"

"I appreciate that that sentence could be taken one of two ways, but believe me Jack it was not the way you were thinking."

"Oh"

"You sound disappointed"

"No. Not me. What's that in front?"

A light bounced along the path in front of them, flitting from side to side hovering still as the stood, moved forward when they did. If they moved back it just waited patiently until they moved forward again. Cornelia's night vision could only make out the little light.

"Lightning bugs – We used to have them at home, Grey would collect them in jars, and we'd use them for camping trips. Till Da told us it was cruel." She could hear the wistfulness in his voice as he remembered better times, and the pain at the subsequent loss of his brother and father.

They continued in silence for what seemed like hours, following the little light as it bounced around leading them goodness knows where.

"We've been here before" Jack whispered.

"Several times" Cornelia acknowledged

"I've had enough of playing follow my leader!" He stopped suddenly in his tracks.

"Right little light I've had enough of playing your little game. Either we stop here or – I can't believe I'm going to say this- Take us to your leader"

The light bobbed up and down as if in deliberation before disappearing. Within moments a blinding flash of light lit up the room. As the light died, they realised they were surrounded by women, each barely dressed, each pointing a razor sharp sword at them

~~oOo~~

Hart woke to a hammering noise – Was it on the outside or the inside of his head? Did he really have that much to drink… He remembered the games with Cornelia, gods he ached enough to figure out he'd won them, but the sword? Dream or real? The hammering became louder, he reached out a hand to push himself off the floor. It brushed the hilt of the sword. The cold bone of the handle jarred him to full consciousness. The hammering was now intense, standing he looked around, everything was how he remembered it, although the sword was now at his side, what had the woman said, she made it for him? Why?

He stomped to the door rubbing his face in thought with one hand, unholstering and priming the pulse pistol with the other.

He wrenched the door open, his gun placed right in the face of the person clamouring to come in.

"Flick Ruathen… What an unpleasant surprise for you…"

~~oOo~~

Jack opened his arms in welcome, and leaned back. The universal symbol for peace… He only hoped they knew it too. They were holding far too many sharp things for his liking. He could feel Cornelia's back pressing against his, and another overwhelming urge in his blood.

"If you're planning something do it now!" she hissed

"Hello Ladies. Have we met before?" He arched his eyes suggestively. The women rolled their eyes. He could almost feel Cornelia roll hers.

"Now is not the time for this Jack"

"There's always time Cornelia, Always. He hissed back.

15 women circled them. Each of them wore a dragon tattoo from their thigh winding down to their ankle. The tail of the dragon bound around their right foot, the rest encircling their leg till its mouth reached the hip. Their left arm carried a similar tattoo with the head of the encircling dragon coming to rest on their chest. The paleness of their bodies showed off the rich colours of the dragon. Each of them carried a long vicious sword. Some held the sword at hip height; others raised it above their head. Every single one of them was pointed at Jack and Cornelia, ready to swing should Jack even think the wrong thing.

"Jack if you've got a plan, now would be a good time to use it."

"I'm working on it"

"Hurry!"

He could feel the urge intensify. His hand started to shake; slowly he grasped it with his other hand, trying to stop it. _Concentrate Jack, Stop the urge. _ Phire now was coming through his mind strongly. The drug that had connected them was no longer needed for her to converse with him. _They are the guardians of the icon. Wrong move and they will kill you._

He stepped forward, more trying to stop the urge and the shaking, than actually trying to implement a plan. The women moved forward, the circle tightening. _ Wrong move Jack_

His nerves jangled, the urge was starting to drive him crazy. The encroaching swords finally stopped as both he and Cornelia were unable to make any movement without becoming a sudden pincushion.

_I thought you could control it? Phire asked throwing his previous words back at him silently_ he watched as Cornelia threw him a questioning glance, she could feel his nervousness.

"I'm trying" He could hear Phire laughing inside his head.

"Shut up woman!"

Cornelia looked round at him her brow furrowed in surprise.

"I said that out loud didn't I?"

Cornelia opened her mouth to speak, just as a rich voice rang through the catacombs, drowning out any chance to reply

"Ladies, Please that is no way to treat them". The women stepped back one pace, swords still pointed at them.

From the gloom stepped a beautiful woman. Her skin was pale caramel, her eyes laughing, tight dreadlocks hung in a long gather so it came over her shoulder. As far as Jack could see, this newcomer had no tattoos. She barked out an order:

"Bring her. She is to be presented" Cornelia was yanked out of the circle and dragged to the woman.

"Strip her" she ordered.

Despite Cornelia's struggles; two women managed to remove the last remaining weapon and all her clothing. Shivering from the cold Cornelia stood proud, in front of the woman. The swords were pressed tightly against Jack. He was unable to do anything except watch. In the gloomy light he could see the pattern of ugly bruises against Cornelia's skin, she turned to him and gave him a wan smile. Before putting on the simple shift dress one of the women held out to her.

"I'll be ok… I hope"

"See that they remain here. He and his little hitchhiker are not to follow." The woman ordered. 15 pairs of amber eyes glared at him, willing him to make a move. He opened his mouth to speak, till a sword pressed a little closer to his throat. The prettiest leaned in to him and growled

"You are not welcome here. She may be. She goes to be presented, you SIT" It was a command that entered his ears, avoided his brain and made straight for his legs which collapsed under him. He landed ungainly on the floor. The women stepped back. Not relaxing, but not poised. The bag they'd brought was kicked across the chamber to Cornelia's pile of clothes. His box of rapidly diminishing tablets rolled out. And came to rest at the entrance to the tunnel.

Jack sat quietly for once in the circle of women. The urge increased, the shaking had developed further, he wrapped his arms tightly himself. Fight the craving he told himself. Slowly it ebbed away, it must have been over six hours since his last dose. He congratulated himself, not bad for someone who usually took a dose on a two hourly basis. Since they'd escaped the wire room the ensuing fire had destroyed what semi made drug had been stored there. His brain froze as he heard a click behind him.

_It's nothing_ Phire assured him. Another click, and then another. His eyes searched the gloom beyond the guardians.

_It's nothing Jack, there is nothing __**there**__._ Phire stressed the final word. Jack finally placed the noise; it was claws, claws clicking on the stone. The noise echoed from the depths of the catacombs. A Blast of brimstone and sulphur rose from the catacombs. He heard his name screamed out before being abruptly silenced.

The noise grew steadily louder, Phire's assurances went unheeded. He quickly stood; the craving gone, adrenaline pushing him forward. The Guardians tensed weapons held ready.

The woman in front of Jack screamed as a blaze of fire turned her iridescent then a small pile of smouldering ash.

"Run!" he yelled at the guardians, but they stood still, baring his way. He could smell the breath of the oncoming creature. The spine tingling noise of scales slithering over the floor was amplified by the chamber. He grabbed the still warm sword the woman had dropped a moment earlier, and brandished it ready for the coming beast. At that, the women attacked.

Spurred on by fear and anger Jack hacked, kicked and punched his way around the women. Many of them fell, hideous wounds hindering their attack. Those who stood still were charred by a belch of white flame. The eyes in the darkness pieced him, looking deep into his soul. Phire's reasoning couldn't reach him. His anger and fear drowned her voice out. He stepped back as the head of the beast came out of the darkened corridor. It just about filled the large chamber, its scales, a mass of beautiful colours, each changing in the ever flickering candle light.

"Jack" It growled his name

"Get back!" He panted sword raised towards its chest. The dragon stepped forward again. He tried pushing the sword deep in to the dragons chest. His arm rebelled, his fingers unclenched the hilt and it dropped to the floor. The dragon spoke again

"Jack.. No Its.."

"Stay away from me" he yelled scrabbling backwards. With a swipe of its huge claw, it knocked him to the floor, and pinned him beneath the huge heavy foot. A claw placed either side of his chest, the other centimetres away from impaling him. His shoulder blades tried digging him into the cold stone floor, to no avail. The dragon brought its face closer to his, the stink of sulphur assailed his nose. A large drop of drool ran from its mouth on to his face. He was unable to move, his head felt as though it was in a headlock, as more drool ran down onto his face, dribbling into his ears and seeping through his lips to his mouth. He gasped a breath and closed his eyes, waiting for the inevitable bite.

It never came, he gulped, and the drool tasted familiar, strawberry. He opened his eyes. Cornelia was sat on his chest pinning him down. A roughhewn wooden goblet partially raised in her hand.

"Oh…. You're alive?! I heard you scream, the Dragon ate…"Where's the dragon" he asked wearily

"There is no dragon" She replied

He looked round; the women that had encircled him had moved back, they were all watching him cautiously. One of them lay on the floor, obviously dead,

"I saw a dragon" he insisted

"You were hallucinating Jack, there was no dragon" Cornelia assured him

"At least not yet" another female voice spoke over her shoulder.

"It looks like you are the one. The penultimate guardian that the prophecy states. I've waited a long time for you Jack" the voice continued

He stared up at the woman. She was petite and homely; a white gown enhanced her dark ebony skin and emerald green eyes. He felt Cornelia finally get off his chest so he propped himself up on his elbows.

"Thanks." A smile drifted across his face

"And you are?

She held out a hand to help pull him upright

"I'm the Icon"


	22. Chapter 22 Meeting Mary

_oops you wait for ages then three chapters turn up at once : ) again reviews gratefully accepted_

* * *

_She held out a hand to help pull him upright._

"_I'm the Icon"_

_~~oOo~~_

Jack stared at her, then at Cornelia who nodded and smiled at him. He grabbed the woman's hand and stood.

"Let me guess, that's an honorific, you far too young and beautiful to be the original." He fell back onto his trusty sidekick charm and gave his now trademark lopsided grin. Inside his head he heard the sound of tinkling laughter, something he'd not heard in a long time. Cornelia stifled a snort before mouthing to him.

"_The_ original"

Jacks mouth fell open in amazement. The woman stepped closer, raised a hand and gently closed his mouth.

"I don't want you catching flies dear" She turned to Cornelia, "Make a note of the date dear," She looked back at the scowling Jack before winking at him and indicating for them both to follow her.

Silently she led them through the catacombs, each turn they took led them further down into the depths.

"We're descending" Jack stated the obvious.

"If you wish dear"

"You can't be the original you'd be…"

"Very very old. I am. I dined with them and watched as he was betrayed, unable to do anything to save him. He knew he was going to be betrayed. I begged him to protect himself, but he wouldn't, just told me to continue with faith. He loved me. We all loved him." She sighed in remembrance.

They paused outside an ornate heavy oak door. The large hinges hinted at the thickness of the wood. This was a door that alone would hold the world at bay. Her lightest touch swung the door open.

"Welcome to my humble home"

Inside the room was brightly lit by an unknown source. She answered the unasked question forming in Cornelia's head

"Crystals, Leo was a dear and set it up for me. They bend the light to give me the light I need down here."

"Leo?"

"Da Vinci, oh he was a nice man, a little strange at times, but I suppose having all those strange thoughts in one's head makes people strange. He wasn't from round here you know, he travelled before settling down."

Cornelia peered around the room; the carved stone walls were covered with books or pictures. Each book was hand written and bound with dark ribbon; each picture hand drawn and framed in white wood. In one corner stood a hat stand, a long stripy woollen scarf wound its way round the pole, a panama hat sat comfortably on the top. Its years of being rolled and unrolled showed its age. A black leather jacket hung forlornly from one of its hooks, dusty with age. The woman nodded at Cornelia's unspoken question. "He used to come here regularly; I believe he's looking for the answers to something, when he knows what it is he'll return to see me."

Jack wandered over to the book shelves, curious about the books. He recognised a name, then another; he pulled the next one down.

"This is about Lady Phire? My lady Phire or someone else's?" he asked.

"_Put it back Jack I already know all about me"_ the voice in his head said.

"But I don't know anything about the woman who has decided to take up residence in my head" Jack snarked back.

Cornelia and the woman looked at each other,

"Does he often talk like this?" she asked Cornelia who nodded.

"Either there is someone in there, the drug he takes makes him believe there is someone in there or he's gone slightly mad. Personally I believe a little of all three."

The woman crossed over to Jack who sempt to be having a one sided argument with himself. Gently she laid a hand on his head and shushed him. Almost immediately a woman's voice could be heard throughout the room. "I didn't decide to take up residence. Believe me your head is the last place I'd willingly hide"

"And what's wrong with my head?" Jack retorted.

"Do you need a list?"

"Children Please! I can't think when you bicker like this" the woman known as the Icon raised her voice to be heard over Jack and his inmates animated conversation. The pair of them came to a sulky silence.

"Who are you?" Jack asked eventually

"My lady Phire…You have already guessed who I am, do I need to elaborate?"

"She might have, but I don't think we really believe you're the original Icon. I need a little more information about you before I can take it on trust."

The woman sighed. "Jack I can't tell you all, you're too much of an anomaly to take that risk. Guardian or not, all you need to know is the name given to me by my love is Mary Magdalene. I loved him and he loved me. He was a good and great man, who was returned to us briefly before ascending to his father's side. Some revere me; others try to demonise me, using my name in vain. I stood by him at his final meal, I begged him to leave before he could be betrayed, yet he loved us so much he was willing to die for us. I am over nineteen hundred years old, yet what is time when you have all the time in the world? Can you try at least to believe me and trust me?"

Both Jack and Lady Phire grunted in reluctant acceptance. "The books, what of them?" Phire asked. Cornelia ran a hand over the spines of the books, reading aloud the names, "Da Vinci, Morta Gallen, Ruathen, Me, Phire, You," she stopped her hand hovering over a thick volume, she glanced at the next several books, each as thick as the first "The Doctor" she whispered. "You know the Doctor?"

Mary nodded to the hat stand. He always leaves something behind when he visits. For all his friends and companions he's a very lonely man. He believes he's the last of his race. Yet I know that somewhere out there he's not alone, he just needs to find them."

"He abandoned me, left me up there on my own." Jacks voice was flat.

"That he did, he didn't know what to do about you. She gave you a gift, but at the same time cursed you to become the anomaly you are. A fixed point in time and space, everything will revolve around you Jack. One day when your gift is exhausted then this universe can return to its wobbly path through time to its own destruction. Can you imagine how scary you are for someone who can treat time as nothing more than a happy series of interconnecting events that come one after another? For a Time Lord a fixed point is heresy."

"He still left me. I was his Friend. You don't leave friends behind"

"True, I believe he thought of you more than his friend, and you becoming as you are frightened him. You were almost a brother to him. Maybe an annoying little brother, but it hurt him as much as it's hurt you."

"Can he fix me?"

"That one I can't answer, only he can"

Jack had wandered throughout the room whilst speaking with the icon, he paused picking a book from the shelf and finally settling down in a chair.

"This claims to be about me"

"It is, pick a page"

He flicked through the book finally stopping at a random page. He slowly read it, turning crimson.

"Oh I remember that, they told me it was impossible to do, but we did it, Broke my shoulder doing that too."

He flicked a few pages forward. "There's nothing of my future here."

"Why should there be it hasn't happened yet."

"They're not in here, the mission is but the raid's after math is not"

The woman named Phire could be heard to sigh. "Jack they never existed. I've been through this a thousand times, you were never married, you didn't have a child and the raid never happened. You didn't attack the Highers, You STOPPED the attack."

"NO!" I remember it all vividly. Why do I hurt? Why does it feel that part of me is missing, why won't my heart mend?"

The icon responded by laying a hand on Jack's head, and kneeling in front of him, her eyes capturing his and holding them, "Your master is reinforcing the suggestion that someone placed there. The Drug is feeding off your feelings, drowning you in your own sorrow. It's giving you a purpose for a revenge that is not yours."

Jack tried to pull his gaze away from the Icon, but she held it steady. "That and your feelings of abandonment mean that you won't move on until you see the light and the hope that is surrounding you."

A waft of coffee drifted through the air as a pale skinned, barely dressed woman brought in refreshments. Cornelia and Jack eyed each one hungrily. "I hope they are satisfactory? Your books each told me your favourites." She leaned into Cornelia, "I have need to speak to you privately in the garden."

"You have a garden down here?"

~~oOo~~

"So I must leave him" Cornelia's face was deep in thought, when they eventually returned. Jack had dozed off as intended by the Icon.

"Your path will be a different one. You will meet with him again and you will meet your grandchild, even teach him the art of time travel, but you will not have contact often with this soul."

"He'll be safe?"

"No. He will always face danger, He has nothing to lose… yet"

"Will he ever be loved as he believes he loved his wife?"

"Oh there will be others, some secret, some acceptable, others shocking. There will be those who love him desperately, foolishly and downright strangely. Some will be willing to die for him, but although he'll morn their passing and remember them all in some form, only a few memories will outshine the stars and stay with him forever.

"Now we turn to you, the book contains all I know about you and that is very little. But what it does tell me is that there will be a beating under your heart soon. It will grow very strong. But will need a lot of love, she will be unable to control herself and will need the guidance of a mother for the first few years of her life"

Cornelia interrupted "What? My life is too complicated for …."

"That is no longer your choice. But know this… She's needed in her world, as her own children will bring both joy and pain to him. They are a necessity. They will help him make the decisions to save this world from itself. However you can only watch from the side-lines, she must never know her father, that much is written. If you force otherwise, this guardian will be destined to destroy worlds, not just this one. He'll also destroy the ONE, and well the others simply will not allow that."

"Basically I have no choice then, if I don't go ahead with this. The future is doomed, and if I do go ahead, I have to abandon her to her fate"

The icon nodded, "It's not much of a choice I know but that is all there is. I wish it were otherwise, but I have been told of no other options. She will not suffer, she'll be given a life you cannot give, she'll grow old, have children, grandchildren of her own. He will ensure she is looked after in her old age. Her child will be more attuned to the discrepancies of time. You have heard of the phrases 'An old head on young shoulder' and 'Still waters run deep'? Never will they be more apt than when spoken about her child. He will have a very very old soul. Her little family will be safe, the guardian and occasionally the protector will ensure that. The one thing is though she will be a fiery soul. And will never be satisfied with the niceties' of this time. "

As they walked back into the room Cornelia was silent; finally she asked "What is the ONE? Fate or Gods? "

"The ONE is the reason Fate and the Gods are here, and every single one of them have their eyes trained on their actions."

"You talk of One, yet speak in plurals"

The woman smiled enigmatically before silently stepping over to the sleeping Jack and placed an ebony hand on his head. Her touch was lighter than a feather, She stood there for an age, a gentle smile on her lips before speaking , "Lady Phire now knows what to do, and will ensure he does it"

The icon poked Jack sharply in the ribs until he woke. He sat up rubbing his eyes and wiped the drool from his mouth with the back of his hand.

"Now what?" he asked

"I need to talk to you, and then you are both going back to Paris, To Notre Dame to be exact. Under the window of heaven there is a slab. When the light from the false star and the true star joins you will see the protectors stand on the slab. Press this in and follow the stairs. You will meet the guardian of the key. I'm sorry, but he will ask you Cornelia, to release him from his duties. You must do this. He needs forgiveness and understanding from the Lady." She turned to a casket beside the hat stand and rummaged inside it, muttering under her breath, searching for something, unable to locate it within the box. She scowled at the Black leather coat on the hanger. From the inside pocket she withdrew a small folded piece of cloth. "Why does he not put things back in their proper place? Jack before you meet the guardian you must wear this. It's the only thing he recognises as safe. His breath can destroy minds and you cannot spend the rest of your life looking at sanity from the wrong side. This world needs you sane."

"What of Hart? He's still wandering around the chateau? We cannot take him with us"

"He has a different path. He's already on it. He'll meet you again a couple of times, each one will be…let us say interestingly difficult, but I'm sure you will rise to the challenge Jack. He will bring the news you have waited for. I'm sorry Jack but your decision on his news will have major impact on your life." She handed Jack the cloth she'd removed from the leather's pocket. Unfolding it he noticed the bloodstains and wine stains. The holy cross flashed a brilliant red. Jack looked at her curiously.

"Paupers Commilitones Christi Templique Sololonic – You know them as the Knights Templer. I knew them as friends. They looked after more than the grail. We fought many battles both within our own ranks and from the attacks plied upon us from the outside. It was during my final escape to here that they were finally broken and accused of heresy. I've been followed by accusations and untruths throughout my life, but when it takes the lives of my friends and people who have done nothing more than believe in something different to the norm, it makes me very sad. It is the one regret I have, that I was unable to protect and help the very people that were sworn to protect me, the key, the grail and the Box." She stared at the floor as she remembered that terrible time. Another memory assailed her, making her smile. "The heart of the box was something that the first of the protectors stole, and occasionally he needs reminding of it when he gets a little cocky." She paused, "although I think it was more the other way round, the box stole him, she was bored and wanted to travel or so she told me. Over the years they've grown to love each other, she wants to protect him more than anything, had taken him to where ever he needs to be rather than when he wants to go, but still he cares deeply about her."

She beckoned them both through the door. Jack turned round confused.

"We were deep underground, you had crystals lighting the room. How in the gods names do you have a garden and blue sky down here?"

"We're not underground"

"But we circled downwards"

She smiled. "Today's magic is tomorrow's technology." Her face became serious "Jack this world is amazing, it has so much potential, it needs to be harnessed in the right way. You just need to be able to make the sacrifice so that those who cannot see it do. This world has all the glory and love that this universe needs that his world has."

They stood in the middle of a cottage garden; high stone walls blocked the outside looking in. Overhead, birds circled lazily before alighting on the tall cherry trees that lined the walls. A pink tinge to the sky overhead heralded the oncoming dusk. Flowers from all seasons mixed with flowers from different planets around the universe. A warm gentle breeze blew the scent of each flower across their noses. Jasmine, stock, lilly, vanilla, warm cinnamon, gentle apple blossom, each scent mixed with more unknowable scents creating the most heavenly perfume both Jack and Cornelia had ever smelt before. It washed away their worries and enveloped them in a feeling of warmth and relaxation. Cherry blossom fell gently at their feet, somewhere in the distance a stream could be heard, but not seen. "Welcome to my garden." Cornelia Sniffed, the enhancements she'd paid for detected another smell.

"Brimstone, and event horizon, who else comes here? Is it someone who has moved through time rather frequently?."

The woman nodded impressed. "Time herself sometimes comes here. She has interests in this planet." Silently she nodded towards Jack who had taken to wandering around the garden. "We've become very old friends. She arranges it so the best of the seasons are here. My garden is a perfect place in an Imperfect time, always here, and will always be here. Your friend is no longer waiting in the courtyard for you. To say he's unhappy is an understatement. He doesn't like been left, and the pair of you have a habit of doing that. You need to be in Paris by tomorrow night. Any later and who knows what will happen. Take the river boat, it will get you there in time, accept no diversions. You've been here long enough Time will no longer wait for you."


	23. Chapter 23 - Sulphur & Brimstone

Chapter 23

The little boat gently bumped the sides of the mooring area. Jack stood first, almost tipping the boat. The first chills of autumn made him hunker down in his coat. The clergy stood in a line, waiting for them at the top of the steps. He looked first at them, then at Cornelia, unsure what to do.

"Go on, your lady friend knows what to say" she encouraged as she tied the boat to the post.

Slowly as he ascended the steps the senior cleric stepped forward.

"May I have clarification of my lady's words?"

Jack stared at him,

"I need the words before I can open the cathedral to you" he was told again.

Tell him I was there at the end and the start, my hearts breath is still but my heart still hopes.

Jack took a breath and spoke "I was…"

He's_ French Jack, you need to speak french_

Haltingly he spoke "J'étais là à l'extrémité et le début, mon souffle de coeurs est toujours toujours mais mes"

"I hope that was right, I may have just told him that you're basically dead." He murmured to her.

He knows, He was there, She replied absently

Finally after an hour of shuffling hopelessly on the edge of the island, the senior cleric escorted them to the Cathedral doors. As he opened them the light from thousands of candles cast an eerie glow on the steps.

"Please remember this is a holy place" the senior cleric told them pointedly before turning and walked back to the group of men who proceeded to encircle the whole island, as though guarding, although from what Jack had no idea.

~~~oOo~~~

They stood together, quietly awestruck inside the great cathedral. The huge circular window rose high above them. The first rays of morning piercing the clouds outside, forcing the energy through the glass, spraying the multitude of colours on the cold stone floor.

Eventually Cornelia spoke in hushed tones.

"It's pretty"

"Is that it?" he replied.

"What?"

"The window? The one we need to find?"

"Too obvious"

"Oh come on this place was built in what the 11th century? They thought obvious was the new secret"

"Jack – you're a cynic"

He smiled, for once she actually got the real him, the pain behind the eyes fleetingly gone. The sorrow at abandonment disappeared.

"You love me for it though"

"You don't change do you?" she asked him. He shrugged and replied

"Do you think this is the right place really? I mean was she really Magdelane? She could have been anyone."

"I don't know if she is; but a lot of the things she said were relevant so we just have to trust her. This is the right place. Before this cathedral was built the island was sacred ground, it spanned universes and times. There are not many places like this in our universe, but occasionally one bleeds through. They're like rifts in time and space. Occasionally stuff comes through but mostly stuff is taken when it gets too close. According to the Ship this one was sealed round the 6th century,

The voice in Jacks head spoke quietly _I remember then, the poor beast was tormented so much. It's fire extinguished in battle with their chosen one. They sealed it up below ground, a guardian until the new one arrived. Of the multitude there, only two ensured its safety, Pagan and Rossal, they knew its true task, and relit its fire. I understand that reasoning now. _

We need to wait until the light of the sun and the light of the evening star is split between the great rose window and the window of heaven, when their light joins together, you'll find the steps.

Cornelia looked at him again, her head cocked on one side. "You're listening to her again? I wish she'd speak properly. It makes you look slightly insane when you respond to a conversation no one else can hear."

"We need to find the window" He replied simply

Cornelia shook her head in despair, "Tell me something I don't know"

"It has to be today, otherwise someone else will and then the future is a whole lot different to what we know"

She looked back at him, "Now that I didn't know – We need to be higher, we might see more from up there" She pointed towards the massive rose window.

~~~oOo~~~

He stood leaning against the stonework parapet staring intently at the figure crawling across the window. The gentle afternoon breeze was stronger up here; he could feel it pulling at him, willing him to slip and plunge to his death below. He stared intently at the three angels below the window, willing them to move, to touch him and move him on, away from this impossible task.

They're just normal statues Jack, you have to do this otherwise the future is off to hell in a hand basket, and not just Flick will be at the controls. Tell her to move to the top petal, it is just above it. The Weeping Angels have not yet discovered this planet.

"Just above the top petal" he yelled up

"Where?" Cornelia yelled back. Reluctantly she'd agreed to go climbing. Apparently the woman in his head had seen a lock above the two top petals of the window, snugly nestled in the intricate carving just above the rim of the window. At first she'd protested, after all you couldn't climb in the boots she was wearing, but he'd looked at her, and rather pointedly told her to scoot, as Phire pulled rank. So here she was, balancing on a bit of stonework, in her socks, looking for something she couldn't see. Her fingers ran round the curve of the stonework, searching for a lock of some sort, pressing each piece of stonework firmly, yet nothing happened.

She moved a foot, trying to get a better grip when she slipped; her fingers pushed against the tiny pains of stained glass, between the rim of the window and the petals, the pressure cracking one of the panes. As she heaved herself back into position, she let out a heartfelt sigh of relief; today was not a good day to be splattered against the stonework below.

At the edge of her senses she could hear a whirring, deep within the stone above her. The encircling stone moved back, a hole, about the size of a fist could be seen; she reached up as far as she could, finally balancing on one leg and managed to hook a finger into the hole, as she did so, she caught a small stone button. Just above her head a small window gradually appeared, the stone almost dissolving away as the perception filter powered down.

"That's it!" She heard the shout from below lifted by the wind. "Get down we haven't got much time"

She looked down on to the parapet; it looked decidedly small from 13 meters up.

She yelled back "Where are you?"

Silence

"Bloody Harkness!" She muttered

She closed her eyes a moment and letting go of her handhold, stepped away from the window. She felt the wind pass her quickly, before she felt the solidness of the stonework beneath her feet, the cold of the stone seeping through the thick socks. Using an Angel to pull herself up she looked around, Jack was nowhere to be seen, neither were her boots. Cursing she squeezed through the tiny door that lead back inside the cathedral. The ladder was still leaning precariously against the tiny walkway. Aware of the needs of time, she shimmied down the ladder, to him waiting below, his head bowed as he sat waiting. The wind blew gently as she stood before him silently.

"Well?" she asked

"You have a hole in your sock"

"I also have cold feet. Give me my boots back. What are we waiting for?"

"The divine light"

He explained, with interjections from Phire, what had happened to the original sacred ground, and the subsequent battle between the Christians and pagans of the time. The Christians had won, at great cost. Both sides used methods of war mongering outlawed from the dawn of the planet. In revenge the pagan Gods had placed the soul of one of the warriors into the body of the beast. The fire had been extinguished and the survivor had been tasked with guarding the Key.

The subsequent Ile de la Cite had been built up around the imprissoned guardian, till finaly Hugh de Paynes and a man called Roussal had planted the seed in the minds of the god fearing public to create the most expansive monument to god, of its time. Under the instruction of an ebony skinned woman they befreinded the guardian, and caused its fires to be relit, giving it the facility to protect the Key from from all but the penultimate guardian.

"When the light from both the false star and Lielosel shine through the centre of the Great Rose Window and the Window of Heaven then will Guardian be able to pass on his secret." Jack told Cornelia who again raised her hat to obscure the setting sun and check the time,

"We need to be inside, as it won't be long now.."

"The evening star is already in the heavens" he replied.

Inside they waited. Slowly the light from the bright young star, a mere 93 million miles away, pierced the central window. The pale reflected sun light from the Earths sister planet, almost 24 million miles away, shone through the heavens to this great blue pearl with pin point accuracy and poured through the two windows, to meet at a single point in the cathedral.

Together they ran over to the tiny pinprick of light, Jack kneeling down ran his hands over the slab, gently questing for the carved DNA strand of the original protector.

"DAMN! Its gone, its been worn away over the years. All this bloody time and its gone. "

Cornelia sat back on her haunches, disappointment etched on her face.

"Pry it open, Crack it open, it needs to open.!" She looked round for something heavy to hit the slab with.

Your looking for the wrong strand Jack, Remember the window at Tarascon? He's no longer the Guardian.

Jack stared in realisation; he remembered now, the new face of the knight in the window, the new strand of the guardian.

"Cornelia! I need water!"

"What?"

"Water I need to wet the slab"

She scooped some water from the font and raced over to a kneeling Jack. The few drops that landed on the slab he moved around, cleaning it. Slowly the dirt of the years were removed and the carving of a double helix could be seen. He recognised it easily. It was as much a part of him as his name.

Some things the time agency could never wipe away, and the DNA of a Boshane/human hybrid was one of them. He was looking at his beginnings.

He pressed gently down on the strand. Then stood, having to move back as several slabs depressed then moved underneath others, revealing an old stone staircase, going into the bowels of the cathedral.

Together they stepped down into the darkness, the air surprisingly warm and dry. Jack felt the sides of the descending stairs,

"Warm and smooth" he whispered

Cornelia concentrated, switching her vision to night attack.

"Crap! No light" She swore under her breath, before switching back to normal vision. The sheer lack of any type of light limited the use of the mod. She'd been in dark places before but this was as though they'd stepped neatly into a puddle of artists black. No light entered, no light escaped. Carefully the pair of them shuffled down the stairs, each foot gently questing for the edge of the step as a guide before stepping down. She turned to look back up towards the hole, but as silently as an assassin; the covering slabs had closed again blocking their exit. After an unbearable time they reached a platform, sliding her foot in front of her she tried to continue, finding the edge. As they descended the darkness became even blacker.

"Can you believe this place?" she whispered

"Apparently were not actually in France any more." He replied, "according to Phire, this is some sort of loop, a protection for the beast, its remains of its home"

"Which is?"

"Our imaginations"

"Oh"

"Exactly… don't know about you but I can imagine some pretty K.."

"Shut up! Don't even try… I don't want to be knee deep in sex…"

"I'm hurt, why does everyone think that's all I'm about?"

"Because Jack… You usually are. Oh you're good at all the other stuff, but….SHUSSHHHHH!

In the dark she placed a finger on her lips requesting silence before realising that it was a completely useless action, he couldn't see it.

"What is that smell?"

They could hear a several deliberate clicks of something against stone.

"Sulphur? Brimstone? Where the hell would that come from?"

A lick of flame suddenly blossomed towards them pushing them back towards the bottom step. A voice growled from below

"The key is mine heretic! Go away"

The sudden blast of light had temporarily blinded both of them; they had no option but to stay there, until their eyes readjusted. Unfortunately this option was not available, the stone tilted suddenly and the long steps down into the centre of the loop became a long slide.

They eventually stopped in a pile at the bottom of the slide, an eyrie silvery glow around them. The clicks became louder; Jack recognised it, Claw on stone, the slither of scales against the stone. He was still almost blind in the now semi dark, as a strange glow emanated from what he assumed or hoped was moss on the walls enclosing the creature in, but Cornelia had managed to reactivate the night attack mod. The clicks stopped. Using what little light was down here, the night vision was able to just about work, she searched the surroundings in front of her looking for the creator of the sound.

She felt a breath against her cheek; slowly she turned her head, her hand reaching down to the back of her boots, and with drawing the hilt of the sword from its concealed pocket. As it came free, she pressed the mark on the hilt, she could hear the air molecules being manipulated as the blade was created afresh. She could hear a metallic click as Jack armed himself. The presence beside her snorted, and she finally looked up into a pair of flared nostrils, She leaned back to take in the rest of the face the nostrils belongs to. A pair of sorrowful eyes looked down at her, the long scaly nose snuffled at her.

"Dragon" she hissed.

"Pleasures all mine future girl. Go away." The shape of the mouth should have made it difficult for it to speak; yet she heard the words as clearly as though the creature was human. She felt the intake of air as it prepared to flame. She clenched her fist and lunged, placing a well aimed thump on the underside of its jaw, making it bite its own tongue. Jack ducked underneath as she rolled away aiming to create further damage to its soft under belly. He fired wildly in the air, the flash of the powder from the gun again blinding them.

"You bloody idiot! Don't do that I can't see a damn thing!" she yelled at him.

They heard the swish of the tail first. Then the pain bore down on them as they were both swept off their feet and pushed onto the wall. The air rushed out of them as they connected with the wall, before sliding down it to a heap on the floor, Jack shook his head to dispel the stars going round and round. Unsteadily he stood, unsure if he was injured or the adrenaline was blocking it. This was going to be his fight and he'd be damned if anything was going to stop him. He listened carefully; behind him he could hear the shallow breathing of an unconscious Cornelia, in front of him a shear absence of sound. He stepped forward, reaching into a pocket to retrieve the smaller gun that he'd stolen earlier. It wasn't there, a click on the stone caught his attention, the beast was trying to be as quiet as possible, again, another click, he heard the intake of breath and he instinctively leapt forward, dodging the flame and landing awkwardly on the animal's snout. He hung on grimly as the beast swung its head back and forth trying to dislodge him. He could feel himself slipping.

_Vault to 2 o'clock. There should be a ledge behind it._

Trusting the voice in his head he vaulted over the crown of the dragon, he just about managed to balance on the edge of the ledge, where she said it would be. From here he could hear the dragon snuffling around.

_Leave her, let the dragon have her. We need to get the key._

Incensed Jack retreated into himself, searching for the woman who believed herself safe inside his own protected place.

"I leave no one behind any more" he roared in the silence of his own head. He forced his way through the gradually repaired house, searching for her.

_She's trash Jack; she wants the Key for her own purposes. You heard her admit she's married to Hart; they'll sell it to the highest bidder._

He pushed open a door to face the memories in there; his anger cowed anything that was in there, stopping it from leaching into his psyche before pulling it shut with a satisfied click. Behind another door, the sound of hysterical frightened laughter could be heard, as he opened the door, he caught a glimpse of Hart, stood over the prone woman, each of them had a gun pointed at each other. The woman looked at him, pleading with him, and finally he knew where he'd seen Cornelia before. He'd been ordered to abandon her to her fate once before, he wasn't going to do it again He closed the door with a slam. He remembered everything now, in his head each memory was in place, except… except the two years taken by Holding. He turned to face the woman, who smiled. It was a condescending smile making him feel like a small child doing a simple trick.

_Welcome home Captain. _

She staggered back as Jack punched her in the stomach.

"Don't ever suggest that again. I leave no one behind. You left her not me."

He turned on his heels and stalked out of the house, leaving her to regain her wind and run after him. He could hear her footsteps behind, the clicking of the irritating heels as they ran through the cold tiled floor of his protected place. As he stalked through the myriad of corridors he swept vases, furniture, ornaments behind him; each one turning into a trap. He could hear her fighting through the traps to get to him; she was shouting him, wanting him to stop; yet he carried on walking. Finally he heard the final trap hit home. He knew without looking she would be encased there, yet another ornament for his memoirs. His face slowly gained a determined, vengeful smile, as he jogged down the staircase to the finally fully repaired door. He raised his hand to the alarm panel and was just about to arm it when a cold delicate hand closed around his wrist.

_Welcome home Captain, _

"By the gods, you don't give in do you, how did you get out?" he snarled.

That's not me, the woman you've trapped up there. That's your dependency, your flighty little soul.

"You've lost me"

No the real Deoc; AKA Captain Jack Harkness has finally come to the fore, your fight wasn't with me, but with yourself, your doubts and fears were all tied in with the Fraitcain, the witch created. You just now have to get over the desire to get high and escape from it all.

The woman sighed, her eyes glazed over as though she was looking into the distance. I really think you need to go back to reality, Someone needs your help

"Bugger!"

He re-opened his eyes waiting for them to get used to the darkness around him. In the dull light given off by what he hoped was simply moss, on the walls he could just about see Cornelia lying prone on the floor, the dragon's foot about to pin her down, her left hand scrambling to reach the sword, her right arm pinned underneath her. The claws extended silently like a cats, making a prison cage ready to be placed over her, the dew claw would pierce her abdomen. Jack let out a shout, before leaping on to the back of the dragon. He grabbed at a scale in the beasts neck and pulled. He must have hit the right spot as the thing reared, trying to make him fall off.

"Future man - GO AWAY" It roared. "Leave me to my penance"

He heard Cornelia scrabble away, and the sword reconfigure itself from the surrounding air molecules. He heard the squelch as it pierced the dragons hide, the thing roared in pain. To him it sounded almost human.

It is almost human Jack. Remember the Knights Tabard

"Shit!" he exclaimed reaching into his coat. Several pockets later he managed to withdraw the neatly folded tabard given to him by the Icon. Carefully he unfolded it, the Cross on the front and rear, glowed a gentle golden colour; a stark contrast to the eerie silvery glow from the walls.

It needs to go on Jack and you need to stand in front of the beast

Despite the beast dodging and bucking from the attacks by Cornelia he managed to slide down the beast to the floor below, and race around to the front.

He saw Cornelia stood, head bowed in exhaustion, unable to carry on; the beast leaning forward its mouth opening, about to take a bite of her. Jack skidded in front of her the glow of the tabard distracting the animal a moment.

"Took your bloody time Jack" She whispered hoarsely.

"Issues to deal with"

"I could have dealt with this thing."

"You were going to be eaten"

"Nah, got this.. "

She reached in front of him, sat on her palm was a small disc "Pat bomb"

"You'd have blown up the whole loop with that".

Tell the thing my words Jack. Tell Rossal what you told the clergy.

"Rossal! I was there at the end and the start, my hearts breath is still but my heart still hopes."

The dragon stopped in mid breath.

"My Lady is that you? I have waited years for you" They could hear the longing in the Dragons voice.

"Is this your final Guardian? Is he to take my place?"

Jack allowed the woman in his head to speak directly.

Rossal my love, this is the penultimate Guardian. The final is yet to be born, yet will be intrinsically tied with these two lesser beings… I have missed you all these years. Do you forgive me?

She controlled Jack, making him step forward and ran his hand tenderly along the dragon's snout. He could feel tears roll from its eyes. His own eyes pricked with tears as he could feel the overwhelming emotion of the two – the woman in his head and the dragon

"There is nothing to forgive, I brought this on myself, and all I ask now is to be released from my task. Am I to understand then that she is the one?"

The snout moved to indicate Cornelia. Jack nodded.

"Please make it quick. I am ready"

"I can't, you deserve…" Cornelia objected

"I deserve to die, I am a merge of human and dragon. Part of me is the only one left of the species. One of anything is lost to all."

"I can't" she replied

"Would you kill to save one life?"

She nodded mutely

"Would you kill to save this world?"

Again she nodded

"To get to the key you need to kill me. If he gets the key, your father dies at the hands of his people. The time wars are lost to one side only. This world becomes ash, the agency is never created. Do I need to go on?"

Cowed into submission she shook her head.

Jack turned and Phire whispered instructions to Cornelia, who merely stared at him.

"Its vulnerable spot is there? It's a dragon; its heart is the most protected place"

Not on this one. This is where two souls merge; look closely at where its heart is. Can you see the cross?

Cornelia had to concentrate; turning off her night attack mods. As she did she saw the glowing golden cross on the tabard Jack was wearing; in response she could just about make out the faint glow of a cross on the dragon's chest. Here was its death spot. Remembering the words of the icon, she reluctantly stood underneath the beast and raised her sword.

Five minutes later the deed had been done, the light returned. Where once had been a one large dragon, now stood a weary man and a smaller ancient dragon, its fire no longer angry. Its eyes showing the ages of sorrow it had gone through. It staggered forward slightly; its front legs buckled sending it tumbling to the ground. The weary man knelt beside it cradling its scaly head, tears of pain coursing down his face.

"Rest now D'coran, may the place after give you the lift for the wings you never had a chance to use."

The dragon slowly nodded its head, "I will look out for you old friend" it replied, before turning those sorrowful eyes on Cornelia,

"You were my salvation, Thank you" it exhaled a breathy sigh, and quietly died. Cornelia dropped to her knees; exhaustion was beginning to seep in, her head bowed down in regret. Her sword deconstructed itself, the hilt clanging to the floor, closely followed by her, as exhaustion, and the remainder of the adrenaline in her system, made its way to her brain, and she fainted.

The weary man stroked the dragons muzzle fondly, before looking at Jack.

"I know my lady is in there, future man. Let me talk to her once more"

In the safety of his head Jack stepped back again and allowed Phire come to the front and take over all control of his body.

He heard the sob and the noise of running feet in his protected place. A flash of white clothing and flame red hair as she ran past him, As he opened his eyes he was kneeling beside the body of the weary man. In his hand he held the key. It looked like no other key he had seen before; he turned it over and over in his hand minutely inspecting each surface.

A large crack echoed though out the reality, the shells of the guardians in front of him crumbled into dust, before swirling up in a gentle breeze that had appeared, Golden motes of dust danced in the wind.

"Leave now Jack this reality is dying. Leave now" the voice on the wind cried.


	24. Chapter 24 - Rememberance

_A large crack echoed though out the reality, the shells of the guardians in front of him crumbled into dust, before swirling up in a gentle breeze that had appeared, Golden motes of dust danced in the wind. _

"_Leave now Jack this reality is dying. Leave now" the voice on the wind cried._

Jack looked around, Cornelia had still not woken. Large cracks in the surrounding walls appeared, with each one a shuddering wrenching sound cracked around the reality. Grunting with effort Jack struggled to pick Cornelia up so they could escape the decay that was happening around them.

"Gods above! You're heavier than you look woman!" he exclaimed.

He ended up half carrying, half dragging her up the slope they had slid down. He glanced up, the bricks and stones towards the end of the slope below started to peel away; slowly at first as the dragons reality became insubstantial and the reality of the cathedral merged. He felt her stir, she was finally coming round. She looked up at him.

"What the hell are you doing?"

"Dragon dead, man dead, Phire useless and that reality is now dead, if we don't get out of here, you'll be dead too." He panted

She blinked tightly and shook her head before standing a little unsteady at first but once she noticed the rapidly diminishing path, her balance returned and the both sprinted towards the top of the slide. As they reached the original platform they could both hear the sliding of stone slabs in front of them and a widening crack appeared above them in the ceiling. Rapidly the crack turned into the entrance they had originally used.

They cannoned out of the floor of the cathedral as the last of the dragons reality imploded in on itself, leaving nothing but a memory.

Panting they sat on the floor.

"You have it?" she asked. He nodded a silent response. "I need a drink"

"I need something… but a drink will do" he replied

She stood and held out her hand to help him up.

"I think she loved Rossal all those years ago" She observed.

Jack said nothing.

"Shit!"

"House of a God here, you're not supposed to curse" he looked at her.

"You left my sword"

"Sorry I forgot to pick it up; I sort of had other things on my mind."

"I'll just have to steal another one from Hart, he owes me several"

Together they walked past a cleric, who called Jack back.

"Hello again, I see you have made your choice."

Jack looked intently at the old man. It was the one who gave him the painting all those days ago.

"Is it the right one?"

The cleric shrugged "In life there is no wrong or right decisions, you can only make a choice based on the information you know at the time. God works in many ways, and sometimes his soldiers…"

"I'm not God or Gods solider; I told you that the last time we met." Jack replied hotly. The cleric simply smiled.

"Sometimes you don't know that you are his soldier until right to the last minute. Your path will be a long one my friend. And when this place and more have returned to the star dust they were created from you will still be watching and remembering. Your fate is so intertwined with this planet that every decision will impact in one way or another. I believe that this little adventure was slightly more exciting than my sermon when we last met?" Jack simply smiled,

The cleric took Cornelia's hand and kissed the back of it. "I take it you are his watcher?" the man's eyes grew distant. "You still have a long way to go before you find what you seek. But your little family will become one of the most important ones soon. They and this man are all interlinked, the Face, the child that waits and the child that dies again all belong with the immortal man and your father"

Cornelia shook her head, "I have plans…"

The cleric smiled, "Plans change my dear, without your father and his little band of random companions, the universe will never evolve. And those companions all boil down to you in some way or other. Please consider all options." He turned back to Jack as she walked out towards the boat.

"I believe you have met my brothers? How are Joseph and his family? Is my youngest still protecting that pterodactyl? We rarely get to see each other" Jack looked at him curiously as the cleric reached inside his pocket and withdrew a small brown parcel and handed it to Jack.

"Joseph sent you this… you will need it someday. Remember plain sight is often the best hiding place."

As Jack walked out of the cathedral to the waiting Cornelia, he opened the parcel. Nestled within the packaging was his wrist strap. It lay there innocuously, yet he could sense the presence of the years weighted to it. Sighing he pushed it into his jacket pocket and followed Cornelia down the steps to the waiting boat to take them back into Paris.

~~oOo~~

The little boat rocked as they disembarked at the opposite edge of the river, this time almost tipping Cornelia into the water, Jack reached out and grabbed her arm, steadying her.

"Thank you". They'd been silent since they got into the boat. He lost in his own thoughts of his past/future, she wondering what her future had in store for her. Finally on the edge of the river she turned and asked Jack.

"What did he give you?"

"Who?"

"The Cleric"

"Oh him... Nothing of value; It doesn't work anymore." He still wrapped it around his wrist; the feel of it brought him thoughts of security and home. Unconsciously he stuck his hand in his pocket: his hand searching the depths for the strange key. At his touch, the double prongs resonated; he could feel a power within the key. One that reminded him of the moments he retook his first breath at the restart of each life. This was a dangerous thing, so why give it him?

"Can I see this key that Rossal gave you?" Cornelia asked, interrupting his thoughts.

He started to shake his head, an overwhelming reluctance to show it her.

"Do you trust me?"

He paused before speaking, "I don't know you well enough, but you don't know me either, yet you have risked life and limb to help me." He pulled the key from his pocket and passed it over, the feeling of reluctance fading. At the edge of hearing on the breath of wind a satisfying sound of the world breathing again was heard.

_Well done, did you feel the universe hold its breath? It was worried you wouldn't give up the power easily. _Phire finally spoke to him in the silence of his head.

"Power is something I've never wanted" he thought.

_You could learn to like it. _

He did an internal shrug, "I need to be answerable to someone, even if it's only to…"

He stopped as Cornelia grabbed his hand, and pulled him into an alleyway. "Flick" she hissed. "He's here. Is he waiting for you?"

~oOo~

Silently they waited until Flick had passed by. On the outside he was a gentleman to the core, raising his hat to passing ladies, nodding companionably other men, but on the inside Flick was furious. Hart had lost Jack at the chateau. How the hell that had happened was beyond Flick. As soon as he'd got the summons from Hortensia and then one from Hart he'd made his way there.

He'd arrived not long after the summons, but it had taken him an age to get through the protection of the gaudy chateau. Eventually Hart had answered the door and shoved a pistol in his face. Hart admitted killing Hortensia, in his defence he had no idea she was working for Flick, he just saw her as trying to take his prize, which was to kill Jack. Flick was slightly wary of Hart and he knew that if ever Hart actually every used his brains instead of his fists to get results, He would be no more than a footnote in history and he would never get his plan working. But Hart was only interested in two things now. Revenge and Money, and even Revenge took a backseat sometimes. The agency had equipped a psychotic paranoid half breed and turned it into a very efficient intelligent killing machine. Thankfully using his brains was something Hart rarely did.

Flick thought back to the future, a time when he started this stage of his revenge. If Hart only figured out that it was him that was responsible for his injuries back at the agency. The cause of his pain as new tech and replacement mods were put back into his broken body. Flick smiled to himself. How ironic, the idiot was working for the one he swore to kill; helping him further his plans to remove the stain of the agency from the universe. He paused for a moment, out of the hundreds of other agents who agreed with his plan; he was the only one left. Hart and Steele had seen to that. He'd managed to hide his tracks and his identity so well; not one of the other agents knew about him, he was just an image, a made up name that was allowed to roam free, but there was only him left now. Hart and Steele had seen to that by killing or trapping the others. But the tide had turned he knew that. The new leader of the Highers had reduced the agency to a few members; all agents returned to Holding for reconditioning. They were too dangerous to retire; mods and training had to be removed and unlearnt.

Cornelia had been the one to capture Steele and she'd sent Steele back to holding, whilst Phire was stuck inside Harkness' head; trapped in the memories and nightmares that Flick had cooked up and the false ones that he'd lay during his jaunts through Harkness' mind.

Flick walked through the streets of Paris, every action belying the burgeoning anger he felt at the direct loss of Harkness, but the smug satisfaction of his actions with trail he'd laid and the drug would bring Harkness back to him with the key, and then his plan could begin again started to burn away the anger.

~oOo~

The full moon was partially obscured by passing clouds as Cornelia and Jack sat alongside the Sienne. Ripples from the night boats disturbed the reflections in the river. Sounds from the city behind them were muted by night's cloak.

"So what happens now?" Cornelia asked him.

"I really don't know, I'll think of something" he replied

"How about we get as far away from Paris as possible?"

Jack grunted non committedly

"How did you get to know Hart? And why the hell did you marry him?" His question threw her for a moment. He waited for her reply as she gazed down, watching the ripples force the river to lap against the wall.

"First found him dying in a warehouse. He'd been shot and electrocuted, and then was being finished off by the freezing temperatures. I think it was some backward planet in the Bezantian quadrant. His stupid partner was nowhere to be seen, nor was he answering the comms; so I dragged him off to somewhere warm, and fixed him up. The ungrateful sod bled all over my coat too. I managed to dig an old style Earth bullet out of him, God knows where he got that from.

His unit was waiting for him by the time he'd healed. His partner was still nowhere to be seen. I can only assume he'd been killed. From what Hart said he was a rookie and they tend not to last through their first mission. Not surprised really if he was that stupid to go wandering off on his own.

I met him again a few years later, after the war on Scion Major, we were on different sides. I was one of the few survivors of the first battle. Thank god I never saw the mad princess and her escort. I would have killed them regardless of the bodyguards. Between them they decimated the Foritin and most of her army. From what I heard the escort betrayed us, Under torture he gave the information they wanted. Hart often boasted of how the 'Fallen' and he got the information from the escort. He used a laser whip on the escort's spine"

Jack's flinch was unnoticed by Cornelia as he remembered the pain of the whip and the subsequent needles. Had, he known Cornelia then? Why had he agreed to the mission there? How had he become the Princess' escort, blind to the intrinsic inadequacies of the Princess' ability to plan a war; hell, she had trouble planning her wardrobe for the day… He remembered that not so long ago the soul walkers had taken Viktor, his own comrade in arms on Scion Major who'd warned him so many times before he'd died.

She continued "We crashed into one another frequently, so eventually decided to work together, but gods he frightened the life out of me. He has madness about him, one moment he's amazing, the next warped and terrible. We heard of a treasure, one of the rogue agents had hid it I got the agent, Hart wanted to treasure. Some diamond or something; I can't remember now. We traced it to a planet where they had the stupidest rules in the universe. Either you were married or you were shoved in a convent, and I don't mean the type where you pray all day. This one was nasty, smelt of death and broken hope. People married just to keep out of the convents. So for convenience we married. Turned out the diamond was in one of those convents; I think after that little adventure I was picking glass and splinters out of my backside for months after. We never got round to nullifying the marriage. Thinking about it I really don't think we could have. Things had happened, so nullifying wasn't an option on any planet." Her face closed down to the emotions coming through.

"After we stole the treasure the bastard left me tied up for the authorities with a note about our sham marriage, luckily the police were easily bribed. Got my revenge on the Axim"

"Axim?"

"Prison ship. We were both there… guests I suppose you could say. We'd been betrayed, they tracked us down, caught us with illegal weapons. We managed to bribe our way out of that but not the immoral marriage they charged us with. It didn't help that he had a pistol placed to my head, I was covered in blood, bruises all over the place stripped down to my torn underwear, and he'd hardly shed a thing, Some kid walked past the door and saw us, within 15 mins the authorities were all over us. He was sent down for all sorts of crimes, rape, attempted murder, polygamy. Everything they could think of. I managed to hooked him up with "Sharon" just before I got out. My lawyer got me out on miscarriage of justice; after all I was the perceived victim. "Sharon" enjoyed teaching his brand of punishment and he had exotic tastes. He took a shine to Hart and tried to teach him a thing or two."

"So in essence he attacked and forced himself on you then tried to kill you" Jack asked He could let slide many things but not taking something not willingly given. Theft of property was one thing, sex was something else, It had to be given willingly. Love had only a small part to play in his book, but to freely give yourself to someone? Well freely was magical, it'd hit all the buttons, release all the necessary pheromones and stuff. He fumed quietly.

She was quiet the memories flooding back, it must have been 10 mins before Jacks words actually reached her brain.

"What? No! It was a game, well it was that time"

He raised his eyebrows in question.

"Last time I saw him I was in a stable of all places, he took advantage of a time bomb, took advantage of me and left me to die"

"So he did try to kill you"

"Well I'm not sure as he left the antidote with someone who found me and brought me back from the halls of the dead"

"Halls of the dead?"

"Apparently legally, I'd died, the stuff he uses slowly paralyses everything till your heart stops and that's it games over. The doctor was writing out the death notes when in waltzes this lanky strip of nothing, wearing a bowtie and a stupid hat… looks like a plant pot with a tassel in"

"Fez"

"Yeah one of those. Then utters something about saving someone. Jabs me with a needle, and then has an argument with the doctor there, about who's the real doctor, has an attack of verbal diarrhoea and wanders off never to be seen again. I remember waking up in a night dress that was really way too small."

Jack quietly seethed. Hart had taken something not willingly given, used his pheromones to make her agree. Shouldn't be done, shouldn't have been allowed. He sat quietly, listening to her stories of her life and guessing at parts that she omitted. The chill of the night air eventually stopped her talking; Phire's voice filled the silence in Jacks head

_We need to stop Flick, and send him back to Holding, otherwise he's going to take this planet apart stone by stone, looking for you and the key. And he's got the tech to do it. _

"Can't someone else do it?" Jacks voice echoed along the path, Cornelia looked up quizzically. Jack tapped his head indicating Phire was talking to him. Cornelia simply nodded in understanding and went back to staring at the reflections in the river.

_You are so intricately tied to this planet. It has to be you. You can't leave it yet, you have specific tasks to do, certain things to achieve before you can depart, and even then it will be only temporary, you'll be back, trying to save the world, debunk miracles, and defeat demons._

"How do you know all this?" he asked her silently.

_In the 52__nd__ century it's my job to know all about you. I look after you, care for you and occasionally make a good cup of coffee. I can't master tea though so don't get used to it._

In Jacks head the penny dropped, "Oh gods, Your my wife aren't you?"

Phire laughed, it was a while before she could bring herself to stop. _No Jack. More like your secretary… _


	25. Chapter 25 - Loss

Jack shivered in the cold air; down here the river attracted not only the cold but the more unsavoury inhabitants of Paris. In unspoken agreement they both rose to find a simple hotel. The sunrise tinged the sky pink, and Cornelia took her battered hat from her pocket and raised it against the rising sun. She glanced at it before seating it on her head.

"It's almost half four in the morning. I think I know a place we can stay for a while at least"

Jack shrugged

We could always go back to…"

"Do you really think that's a viable option Jack? One look at you and he'd take the key, he has a hold over you remember?"

"But I've not needed it for a hell of a time" Jack protested

_Doesn't mean your cured Jack, the stuff Magdalane gave you hasn't completely made you free, just slowed down the desire, I'd give you at least another two days before you need your next fix, three more and it'll kill us. Of course that way you'd be free of it, but I'd be no more, and I'm not ready for that…yet. _ Phire's gentle tones admonished him.

"That doesn't mean anything, once dependant on something, going back is easier than falling through a hole, you can't stop yourself" Cornelia replied sadly. He recognised a knowing tone in her voice and wondered what she was hiding.

Eventually they found the hotel, all faded glory and red velvet, but it was clean and had a view of the river. As Cornelia argued with the concierge over the rooms Jack wandered around the foyer, picking up the various original artworks and with a lazy eye inspected each one.

He caught Cornelia looking at him whilst waiting for the concierge to fetch the manager.

"They're all fakes, and some of them are not of this earth, so where did the hotel get them?" he asked. She rolled her eyes and turned to the young man who had walked behind the counter.

"Hello Semyon" she lapsed into another language, which Jack recognised as the basic universal gutter patois, designed to be understandable where ever you are or from. The man look startled before shrugging off her comments.

"Yeah and what are you going to do about it?" he replied returning to French for Jacks benefit.

She smiled a slow, evil smile and inclined her head towards Jack. "You see my friend? Think back to your history lessons… he's 'Plaktukas " she whispered. The man blanched.

"Plaktukas? He's smaller than I thought. He's really Plaktukas? He wiped out most of the… the highness's bestowed many favours on him for freeing their planet of the Terror, and allaying it to the Highers."

Cornelia nodded." He left only two survivors of the Terror, to tell everyone of what the agency would do to those who crossed the regency. So if we can have a room, ideally without fleas… "

"And a view of the river" Jack called back

"…hot and cold running water, and food, hot food, real food, not the stuff you serve to foreigners who expect things like snails and frogs legs"

"And a view of the river" insisted Jack

"And a view of the river" she sighed.

Semyon nodded, casting fearful glances at Jack who smiled back.

Within fifteen minutes they were in a room, not extravagant but functional, a double bed in one corner, washbasin in another. Jack made his way immediately to the window and stared out across the water.

"I can just about see Flicks place from here."

Cornelia grunted a reply as she pulled off her boots and stretched her toes out before falling back onto the bed and within minutes was asleep.

~~oOo~~

In the cold grey morning Hart was looking out of an upper floor window across the river. He could just about see the line of hotels huddling together as though fearful of what may come out of the water, yet also afraid of what may come down from the hills.

"So, what now? What's our next move?" asked Hart

Flick paused in the process of packing weapons into a carrier. "We wait. He'll come to us eventually then we'll take it off him" Hart continued staring out of the window.

"He's close I can tell, I can almost taste him."

"You'd know I suppose. What the hell went on to get you two trapped in a loop?"

"We pissed off Steele enough for him to open a bubble and shove us into it. First two years were hell, the others not so bad, when we got out it was" Hart paused for a moment before he continued "different, which pissed me off even more. When the contract came out for him I did everything to get it, I want to be the one that kills him."

"He's all yours… when I get the key. There are too many others after it. I have to be the one to get it; hence I have a hold over him, he's rather dependant on my little version of oblivion."

"You know he could go somewhere else for his oblivion, there are many places out there that can make it. Hart nodded towards the stars, Flick laughed,

"There was only one person in the universe that could have made his oblivion. And she is no more, and the ironic thing is… he murdered her. He's stuck here, unable to get any more oblivion until he comes to me with the key. You know our straps won't carry two so no thinking about spiriting him away"

"Spirit him away? I want to ki.." An explosion flung him against a wall; the windows blew out shattered glass raining down on the pavement below. He knew the signs but couldn't respond before, another air bomb exploded throughout the building. Tossing him, Flick and the contents of the room around like rag dolls. As he banged his head and he lost consciousness his brain flung up a memory of another time and place

~~oOo~~

**His head hurt like hell, his body ached in places he knew he had but really didn't want to think about.** **He felt restricted, his vision was blurred. He could hear a soft whispering of voices. Two women and a man, he closed his eyes and let his auditory sensors take over.**

"**This is the one?" a female voice, soft and sensual.**

"**Doesn't look like much does he? Skinny piece of meat took out Sharon and half of B wing before the guards could subdue him" the rough male voice replied.**

"**Do you think we could persuade him to help?" this female's voice would have melted ice cream. He had a desire to lick her as she spoke.**

"**He won't have any choice" the male replied (already hart had decided that he didn't like the male).**

"**But to do that?" the first woman's voice reminded him of the finest chocolate… Oh to take the two he'd be in seven shades of heaven.**

"**Like I said he won't have any choice, the new serums of **_**His **_**chemist will… he's awake and listening. Put the muffler on."**

**Hart groaned – more for theatrical effect than in any actual pain, one of the women came straight to him. Her hard sapphire blue eyes were set deep into a square jawed face. On her left cheekbone were the markings of a medic on the right cheekbone her tribal markings were burned deep in to her skin. Unconcerned about him she went about the process with professionalism and sheer brutal determination. He heard the click of heels on the hard floor, a second female looked over him. He recognised her breed, more Siamese, than moggy. He often wondered how they managed to cross human with cat, but these times miracles were a common feature. He felt a sharp pain in his arm and his eyes fought closure.**

**He woke again screaming this time, the pain was intense every single mod was being dampened. He could feel electrodes in his skin. Amongst all other pain came another and once again his eyes closed, this time voluntary.**

**He felt it before he saw it. His enhanced abilities were no longer there… no strike that they were, they just weren't working. He kept his eyes closed and listened. All he could hear was a constant murmur just on the edge of his hearing. He ventured to open his eyes. The cold clinical lab had been replaced by a warmer room. He turned his head and saw a young woman leaning against a desk watching him a thin cigar in her hand, the ash slowly burning it down. She opened her mouth and spoke, but he couldn't hear anything. She must have asked a question her eyebrows were raised. He shook his head trying to shake whatever was in his ears out so he could hear. She pushed herself off the desk she was leaning against and walked over, her uniform riding up showing shapely legs. She made no attempt to pull it down. She leaned into him her breathing heavy, her cleavage showing. Even he was surprised at the response he didn't get. As she leaned closer he could see her slowly mouthing the words, enabling him to lip read. "You're ours now Hart, you're our little sleeper" Another prick in his arm and once again his eye lids closed.**

**He knew time had passed. He remembered the flight to collect the newbies from Boshane, he remembered the fight he had where he broke someone's arm, the explosions, he was pretty sure that he remembered the director dying. But they were like shadows of memories until…**

**This time he woke he knew he was in a hospital suspension tube, he hurt; gods he hurt bad,as soon as the thought crossed his mind the suspension liquid around him picked it up and a soothing numbness enveloped him. Steele and that bloody Deoc were looking at him. Again he closed his eyes.**

~oOo~

He felt himself being pulled out of the rubble, Flicks hand grasping his and yanking hard.

"What the hell happened?" Hart demanded, He could feel the nanogenes coursing through him, making his skin itch as they wove their magic in healing him. The itch in his brain annoyed him. Must have been some sort of damage there. He'd have a bitch of a headache later; he always did when they fixed anything in his head.

"The Watchers they must have done this they're the only ones who could they know where I am now, they know what I'm after"

"She's one of their lap dogs; do you think she could have planted the air bombs?"

"She?"

"Goes by the name of Cornelia, she helped you out with the translating thing you had her doing"

"Ah yes my personal…assistant" he'd paused for effect hinting at something that was never there

Hart scowled, his imagination working overtime thinking of her betrayal on the Axim, and her disappearance with Jack

If he had been looking; Hart would have seen the flicker of joy race across Flicks face. It was working; he was planting enough seeds of doubt in Hart for him never to trust Cornelia. He could work on Hart's dodgy morals and get him working for him, willingly this time

~oOo~

Jack and Cornelia woke to the hammering sound of someone frantically trying to wake them. The final darkness of the night ebbing away as the sun almost crested its slow climb into the sky.

"Plaktukas!, Wake Plaktukas!"

He hobbled over to the door; the receding pins and needles in his foot tingled painfully. He must have slept on one of the nerves or something.

He yanked open the door to see the man from reception, pale and terrified.

"Semyon?"

The man jangled with terror.

"Plaktukas, they are coming, the Sightless are coming, they've attacked a house across the river"

Jack racked his brains _Sightless? who are the Sightless?_ It sounded familiar but he couldn't place it.

Cornelia called from the inside. "They're part of the Watchers Jack, The REAL Watchers, they're after something."

She peered around Jack. "Semyon Who did they attack? I need to know and I need to know ten minutes ago, you have agents in this town, use them. Get me the info I need"

The man nodded, and started down the corridor

"We could do with breakfast too, something quick and easy. Bring it with the information" Jack called to him "I don't want to have to fight on an empty stomach"

As he closed the door he rubbed his hands together eagerly and smiled. "Back in business then. But why would the Watchers attack? I remember…" he paused trying to pin the memory down " I remember them…I think" the memory escaped him, leaving only a flash of something, like the glimmer of a fish darting beneath the cool water. It was a tiny pinhole sized memory, was this part of his missing memories?

Another knock came to the door, a young man, bearing a tray of pastries, Jack let him in, watching him as he passed, as the young man bent down to place the tray on the low table he became aware of both Cornelia's and Jack's gaze on him, he turned to see them appraising him, almost undressing him.

"Cute"

"Very cute" she agreed

"Looks good"

The air around the man shimmered as he turned to face them. It was as though there were two beings trying to occupy one space, a double exposure to the eye. Underneath the perfect skin they could see his facial bones writhing, as though trying to become used to their new place. Fangs lengthened visibly, eyes paled then snapped back to blue. Jack scrabbled back as the thing stepped forward hissing.

Cornelia was frozen to the spot. A grey cloud enveloped her, bringing her torment and memories of her own regrets, Jacks smile melted away, he'd seen this thing before. Again the flash of the memory, but this time it rose unbidden, slow in its ascension. The pin hole expanded, exposing a cry and blackness, and then it rapidly sank beneath the years of conditioning. Was it something to do with years before when the director had sent him back to the beginning…

He glanced at Cornelia writhing in agony, as unseen torments attacked her. Her body bound by the grey cloud. He could see wounds opening as she stood, her cheeks bled from lacerations that just appeared. He had to duck as the thing launched itself at him, but still it managed to twist in mid leap and still knock him to one side. "Gods the thing was fast" he thought. He rammed his elbow backwards as the thing tried to catch his back, but it still succeeded in pushing him to the bed. He felt it sitting on his back wrapping his hair in its long fingers as it pushed his face into the mattress he struggled to breathe. He tried bucking against the thing on his back. He could feel its breath on the back of his neck. He struggled again, feeling the bedding becoming damp with the moisture on his breath. His vision swam, and then the adrenalin kicked in. His muscles, feeding off the desperation of death managed to dislodge the thing on his back; he scrambled away across the bed towards the open door. He opened his mouth to yell for help, but instead of his cry, Phire's came out sharply

"Rupert!"

The thing stopped and stared at him. "Lady?" its voice was a rasp over a hiss.

"Rupert? What the hell is that?" Jack asked in the silence of his head but Phire ignored him, his legs gave way to some unspoken command and he sat on the floor.

Dopily he looked up at the thing; next to it was a woman. She was heartbreakingly beautiful; her long flame hair fell down her back. He knew this woman well now. He'd felt her compassion as he'd been tortured, years past. He remembered her light finger tips gleaning information from his head with a simple caress. He knew her deeply now. Phire stood before him and stared down the thing before speaking. Her language was ancient and guttural, hand gestures accompanied each word. As they conversed he wanted to go to Cornelia, release her from the grey cloud. He saw her head snap back, exposing her neck. He watched a thin sliver of blood appear across her throat. Whatever was in there had the intention of cutting her throat.

He wanted to cry out but couldn't, he wanted to move but couldn't. Phire had complete control over him. He was powerless in all senses.

The thing spoke back in the same language before inclining his head towards Jack

She shook her head, before pointing at Cornelia. It waved a hand releasing her from the grey cloud, she sank to the floor, breathing heavily; she crawled to the window trying to get fresh air, but ended up grabbing a close by bin and throwing up. She stayed there, throwing up until there was nothing left except bile and stomach lining. Before curling into a ball and sobbing, tears mixing with blood leaving trails down her face.

Jack looked around, the woman had gone. The thing had returned to its previous shape.

"Plaktukas" it whispered.

Jack looked at it, "Who sent you?" he demanded

The thing looked at him. "Fire will not protect you indefinitely. Hart will get you at some point. They'll change that pretty little face soon. Give him the key and they'll survive. Keep it and the whole universe will burn, my kind will see to that, when they break through."

Cornelia stood, wiping tears, snot and vomit off her face with the back of her hands. To Jack she looked like a small child, lost and alone.

Jack struggled to his feet; cautiously watching the suited man who smiled and tapped his chest.

"Oh Plaktukas? … See you in hell!." Jack wondered for a split second why, if it could make him understand did it not speak earlier? Cornelia got it before Jack "RUN JACK RUN!" she yelled turning her back to the thing as it exploded outwards.

The force of the blow at such close proximity threw Jack back, smashing him against a wall banging his head; he scrambled upright, another blast of air hit pushing him further and further from Cornelia. Time moved him in a blurring sensation. He could not remember how he got outside the building; he was covered in ash and soot, crawling along the street. Hands helped him up, he watched their faces they were saying something but he couldn't hear anything he shook his head trying to dislodge the silence, the man in front repeated himself, but still Jack couldn't hear, As the unearthly sound of silence eventually became deafening he pinched his nose sucked in a breath then tried to force it out through his ears. They popped audibly.

The returning noise shocked him. The roar of masonry still falling, the shouts of would be rescuers calling for those hidden underneath the rubble. He looked up at the remains of the building not noticing as someone grabbed his hand and tried to lead him away. He pulled back, adamant he was going to stay. He allowed the helper to remove the remains of his jacket; he could feel his arm being administered to, something being wrapped around it. He watched the rescuers crawl like ants over the rubble. There was a shout. Someone had been found. He stood up pushing the attendant away and stumbled to the rubble. He watched as they brought down a body, as the rescuers struggled to come down the rubble he could feel the bottom of his stomach drop. He recognised the blond hair, cascading down over the rescuers arm. The delicate leg, with the pulse pistols strapped to it, a knife strapped over the shoulder. He looked up into the rescuers eyes. The hope faded. He recognised the man

"Semyon?" his question begged an answer, his eyes pleaded to be wrong.

"Plaktukas Please… "

"No she can't be… she came all this way… she battled them…"

"I'm sorry. They await her in the halls of the dead now lord…"

Jack caught the sob in his throat before bent down and kissed the dust covered brow. Even with the release of death she still looked small, and alone. He was Plaktukas,- the hammer -cold and alone, no mercy, no love, no hope. It would not do to show his emotion, anger sparked inside his soul and the fire started.

Semyon and Jack sat beside her until the creeping night breathed a cold whisper down their necks. They spoke of the battles they'd been in, of the mad princess and of Jacks involvement. He spoke of the Soulwalkers and of Viktor. The Doctor and Rose. He spoke of his abandonment, but not of his death and Rose's gift of life. Some things were not to be said.

Semyon said nothing about the attack until a small boy covered in filth sidled up to him and whispered in his ear. He sat and listened patiently. "Plaktukas… The destroyed house across the river belonged to Ruathan. Two men left before our "gas leak" I think you know him and his guest. According to Tomas here, it was a man called Hart. It was they who orchestrated this." The boy stood in front of them both looking down at the pair of them and then at the body of Cornelia. He knelt and touched her hair. "She's gonna get cold lying there Misters. She's pretty, got soft hair"

Jack looked sadly at Cornelia, then at the boy

"She's dead" the boy shrugged;

"If you say so Mr. Am I gonna get my coin?

Semyon reached into his pocket and pulled out a five franc note. "Take it. You have not seen us"

The boy nodded before snatching the money and ran off down an alley. As he ran the air around him shimmered, the boy grew taller as he ran. By the time he reached the end of the alley he was a fully grown man. Two figures appeared in the air beside him;

"It's done, he is on his path now; we just have to deal with the Daughter of the Last and the Fire" the pair of them spoke.

"The daughter will be ok. She has a gift that will take her down her own path. The Icon will protect her " The man/boy looked at the money before dropping it in the lap of a sleeping beggar and with the other two walked through the wall.

~~~oOo~~~

Jack pushed against the door of the memory. The inside of his protected place had changed since he was last here. Everything was clean, tidy and repaired. The imposing staircase wrapped itself around the wall in a spiral until it came to a halt in front of him. The cold chequerboard floor shone. Each stair and each black square had a single spark of flame lighting the way. She sat waiting halfway up the staircase, waiting. He climbed to her, sat beside her and stared at his hands. Eventually he spoke

"She's gone"

"I'm sorry Jack,"

"You know she was here looking for her father? I was just a side line, something to pay the bills?"

"I know"

He looked at Phire, Really looked at her for the first time since he'd repaired the room in his head. Her hair was no longer flame red, The flame was dying now, the grey was rapidly overtaking. He played back the short conversation to himself. Phire sounded weary.

"Phire are you ok?"

"Do I look ok?"

"…Yes…"

"Liar"

"Ok you look like crap, you look tired, you look old, really old,"

"Lie to me again Jack" she rested her head on his shoulder momentarily.

"Dharling you look fabulous!" he put on an affected voice

"Better Thank you" she smiled at him

They sat on stairs longer than should have been good for them, the cold from the stone seeping into their bottoms. Finally Jack spoke.

"Could it have been Flick? he could have been the only one to arrange the Sightless"

"You need to get Flick back to Holding otherwise that key and you are going to be in so much danger there won't be a planet willing to carry you. And if that comes close to happening…I'll kill you myself until you decided that staying dead is the better option. The Sightless are trying more and more to break though the boundaries. If they manage to get Flick, then they have Key, you will be their next target and between the four of you, this universe's fate will be worse than anything Flick can imagine."

"How are you so sure? Perhaps it will be a good thing"

"The Director told me, but then that would be spoilers for you and you know how he feels about spoilers"

He shrugged

"That thing… It was really called Rupert?" Jack asked. Her smile was cockeyed

"What do you think? For me to say his name I would have to dislocate my jaw, so he accepted being called Rupert."

In the silence they sat, neither wanting to intrude on the others thoughts, until finally Phire stood up and looked down at Jack, "What are you thinking now?"

He sat there a while, his anger simmering beneath the calm exterior he portrayed. "I think I'm going hunting and when I find the sightless and Flick I will kill them all. Holding can want."


	26. Chapter 26 IS HE

HAPTER 26

It had taken less than a day before Seymon's contacts had learned where Flick was going to. He had a large summer house a mile or so out of the city. It looked down over the river that eventually meandered through the city. Like all other agents he preferred to look down over things. Get a good vantage point. The sooner you see what's coming for you the quicker you can plan, prepare, set traps and run. Live to fight another day. Jack was not going to let Flick run this time. Phire had warned him not to go too far, the drug still had a tentative hold on him. It made him feel invincible whilst still draining him of power, making him want and need it more. But this time sheer anger boiled inside, propelling him on. Anger propelled him through the streets of Paris and out into the sprawling countryside that surrounded the city. He strode purposefully through the overgrown lanes through to the town accused of being Flicks second home, Jack had travelled lost in his own thoughts, ignorant of the time it had taken to get there, He thought of the friend he'd just lost. He'd grown close to Cornelia in a very short time. He'd opened his inner eyes and saw the truth. The help from Phire, who he now accepted behind his mind was something else. Between the two of them, they'd originally interfered, and stopped him from dying numerous times. Now he was alone, Phire was too weak to help much, and Cornelia was gone. His grief settled like a sour stone in his stomach. He'd almost felt normal.

Almost

He was still 60% abnormal. 51st Century man, 19th Century setting. Addict, thief & conman. He spun round, and stalked back the way he came. He couldn't walk away from this, not this time. He was pushing back now, Flick needed to go to Holding. Hart needed teaching a lesson he'd never forget for the betrayal of Cornelia. Since he'd been abandoned here, he'd folded so many times, leaving violence as a last resort. He reviewed his past year, the shame of his desperation and gullibility; the depth of belief that the Icon, Cornelia and Phire had in him. Phire's voice in his head pushing him, gently healing him from the inside and repairing his protected place, giving herself up to the ravages of Flicks desperation. Cornelia getting him out of Flicks grip, was the start of something like a first resort. He had a chance to start again. Admittedly he'd had his weaker moments, Hortensia had been one of them. Was he being pushed by the Watchers. Was now the time to get on his own path or let the Watchers push him around until the end of his existence? Would he be the one turning out the lights at the end of the universe or would he eventually die alone with just his memories and no one else. He hoped fervently that he would have at least one friend left by then. Again there was a flash of memory, the glint of something rising from the current of memories racing through his head.

Subconsciously the pin hole in his memory expanded, it began by showing him disjointed accounts of something. He tried to focus more on one thing only, but something else invaded his mind, insisting on his attention. Eventually he gave in and thought about keys. He knew the thing he carried in his pocket was the thing that started the universe; the "big bang" he snorted to himself, more like a damp squib. He'd gone back then, so far back and watched it. It had been part of the tour, something all 2nd year recruits had to do. But he was the only one who'd been ordered by the director to bring something back; they were the only ones who knew about them and the others. The fight had been epic, matched unevenly between the Watchers and the Sightless, the swirling infant cosmos and the newly created gravity. The watchers had only just beaten the Sightless and… He couldn't remember…something had happened, but he was at a loss as to what. He knew that they hitched a ride on his ship and disappeared amongst the stars. Their primary objective apparently was to watch for a certain something, a certain event. Then they would act. Until then they would only watch. And when it happened… he shuddered, no one knew what it would be… no tell a lie only the director knew what it would be, and all he would tell anyone was to watch for the Watchers. He'd asked once what the watchers actually were.

"**I take it you mean the real ones not our tame killers" the director had asked, the face mask enhancing the sigh that had shuddered throughout his body.**

**Jack sipped his drink slowly, whilst considering some smart reply, only to reject it. The director had been unwell this week. Something had set him off sniping at his secretary, and the rest of the recruits. Hart and Steele had come back from a mission from old earth. They had stunk of gunpowder, and their reports had been filled with information lifted from Shandong and the Empress Dowager Cixi leading up to the final days of the Boxer rebellion. **

"**Yes the real ones, the ones I brought back from the edge of time."**

**The director sighed again before replying "Our masters…"**

"**But the Highers…"**

"**We don't work for the Highers, we are so far beyond the Highers. They are like children compared to our masters. We, in essence, work for the Watchers. They're a kind of auditor, or a planner, they know where this universe is going and they have to ensure that the timestones are met in the right time frame. There are people like me out there in the wilds of time, who, tend to frustrate them, as we have to cross the line occasionally and work for the other side. The Watchers and the Sightless know how to push our little universe in the right direction, non-compliance tends to end in death, whichever side you are working for"**

**Jack simply nodded, he was used to being pushed in the right direction now, He looked at the director, "Why me? Why did you want me in this agency? Was I one of those pushes?" Then Jack decided to risk the wrath. "Tell me if the rumours about you are true? Are you one of them,? How come the mask?"**

"**Nope, I'm definitely mostly human with a little none human element in here and a lot of a gift. The sum of my all my past actions. You could class me as a warning." Jack had a feeling that behind the mask the director was smiling "There are so many rumours about me you can take your pick. They're all in some fashion based in one reality or another. As for you, well you're like me, know when to push, know when to fold."**

"**And the mask?"**

**The director stood and started walking to the exit.**

"**I pushed back at the wrong side " he replied over his shoulder**

~oOo~

Jack stalked through the city streets. His face set, intent on violence. As soon as he found either Flick or Hart, he'd kill them.

No. you've done lots of things, some of which you regret. Don't let this take you back down that path. He could hear Phire's voice inside his head admonishing him. Besides if they're dead, how do they know you've beaten them? She continued.

"She was my friend, they both deserves a damn good beating." He replied

Jack, Flick has killed before for this cause, and Hart well he's done 'that' before and you've not reacted like this. I've seen it in your memories. Her voice was tired, almost as if struggling for breath.

"But she was my friend" he repeated.

So that makes the others he 'attacked' un-worthy of your current brand of justice.?

He sighed. "Shut up Phire"

He made his way towards the town square, the spring festival was in full swing. Bunting hung gaily across the square. The pipe organ over by the hall played its merry tune. Jack stalked through the square. His gaunt face and thin figure gave a death like purpose to his stalk. His long raggedy coat billowed out behind him as the breeze blew down from the hills. In front of him a struggling street magician dropped a box of smoke bombs each one exploding loudly, drawing the attention of the gathering crowds. Jack stalked straight through the swirling smoke cloud. His darkening image and billowing coat gave the impression of a demon from the edge of hell intent on revenge stepping through the cloud. The crowed parted, children hid behind their parents until he passed through.

A familiar craving came over him as he stumbled against over the path. He'd seen his reflection in a shop window. He looked thin, almost skeletal thin. His eyes had become sunken and red, his skin, that of an old man. He was shocked, was it only yesterday he'd looked healthy, and fit, able to take on the world as they knew it? Here in the window was a walking bag of bones dressed in his skin. His head pounded with the headache he'd nursed for the past few days. His nose was beginning to annoy him as he fumbled in a pocket for yet another handkerchief to wipe away the snot. He knew now the speed that the drug turned in on itself, eating away at the core of his being. He carried on, he knew what he wanted. He knew what he had Flick wanted. He'd picked up his pace. The house wasn't too far, perhaps he could make it there soon.

Jack… Please stop… you're pushing yourself too far…the anger is taking …She told you that she could only dampen it's her voice was distant and reedy, a small whisper in the wind. Jack… We're dying, if you die so do I, but I won't come back with you… You need m...

"Shut up Phire I know you want me to fail with this, you're one of them hindering me all the time, Just go away !"

She lapsed into silence his paranoia finally surfacing and taking its vengefulness out on her.

~~~oOo~~~

At the house on the hillside Flick stood leaning against the parapet going around the roof top, it was a good vantage point, however the wind was stronger up here. He pulled the coat closer to him and stared out. He'd woken with the feeling that it would be today, Jack would return with the key. The sound of the festival carried up the hill. Flick was impatient. It had to be today. Three months ago Jack had disappeared. He'd allowed that woman to 'rescue' Jack. She was unaware that she was just taking Jack closer to the Key.

At the foot of the driveway he saw a figure stumble into the grounds, and collapse in the middle of the drive. A golden flash as he fell. Flick strained to see who it was… The figure rose, and half stumbled half fell towards the top of the drive and to the door.

~~oOo~~

Jack stood out of breath and so very angry at the side of the road, hidden from the house' view behind the trees at the edge of the road. He clenched and unclenched his right hand. The left side of him shook with pent up emotion. It was they who started this dam thing off. Duping him, and killing innocents at the hotel. Well he would be the one to finish it. He took a step forward into the view of the house. A pain coursed through his body, his vision whited out. He stumbled and fell on to the hard paving of the driveway.

~~oOo~~

Flick hurried down the hallway before waiting, listening for the sound of the bell or the knock. He'd removed all staff from the premises. There was only him and Hart here. He knew that Hart had only tagged along for the ride after the explosion, they were supposed to bargain. He knew about the contract out on him. But Hart never bothered with the niceties unless it could be turned to his own advantage.

At the top of the stairs Flick waited, the knock never came, 10 minutes passed into an impatient 15 and then an intolerable 20. Flick could wait no longer. Clearing the stairs two at a time he almost jumped the last step, childish excitement building up inside him.

~~oOo~~

Inside Jacks head Phire stood before him, her body weary her face etched with pain. She was holding on to two wires that traced back into a hole in the kitchen wall. Jack looked at her confused, the anger relit and he stepped forward. Phire brought the two wires together, sparks crackled off them and Jack found himself on the floor again.

Jack this is not you, This was your own nightmare, your own fear made real. The Drug is fighting back and I… I cannot stop it anymore. They're trying it here, Jack, The sightless are breaking through" Jack shook his head disbelieving. His eyes felt heavy, his breathing became ragged, the cold kitchen floor felt smooth. He could feel something standing over him, gloating. He clenched his fist tightly, his nails biting into the skin. Then he felt rough hands pulling at him…

~~oOo~~

Flick wrenched open the door and looked out. Searching the horizon for Jack, a noise below made him look down. Lying there, visibly only a moment from death was the weakened form of Jack, something clutched tightly in his hand.

"Shit! Hart, Come help me" Called Flick

Lazily Hart made his way from the sitting room, decanter of whisky in hand. He swirled the golden liquid round and round before taking a mouthful straight from the decanter.

"Who's that?" He asked.

Between them they half dragged, half carried the semi conscious form of Jack to the dinning room and laid him on the table. Once he was on the table he looked even worse. His skin a deathly colour, his sunken eyes stared at nothing. His cheekbones pronounced. Hart sniffed then backed off.

"Gods he stinks" he stated

"He's dying, the drug is finally killing him" Flick's voice was detached. He was trying to open Jacks clenched fist.

Hart turned and grabbed Flick by the collar and hauled him close.

"That's Jack…Cure him" he growled. "Cure him, because I am the only one that is going to kill this bastard, not you, nor some drug, you've got into him."

He then turned to the prone form of Jack on the table, and slapped his face.

"Hey! Wake up! You're not dying here. I'm dragging your healthy sorry ass back to Holding, where I'm going to kill you slowly and piece by piece!

"Need water" the hoarse whisper of Jack was just about audible.

Flick fussed over the counter top at the side of the room, pouring out an opaque liquid.

Hart cradled Jack as Flick held the glass to his lips, Jack weakly shook his head.

"Water" he repeated.

"You need this" Flick tried to insist.

"Water" Jack repeated

"Just get him the fucking water Flick. You can get that crap down him once he's had a proper drink"

Jack managed a small sip of water before his eyes rolled back into his head, and he let out a long rattling breath, his hand release a small stone which clattered on the floor. Frantically Flick started searching through Jacks clothing. He pulled out various things; several loose bullets, a pressed flower, a key, which under closer inspection turned out to be the key to the door of his home in Paris, a pair of ladies knickers- clean he hoped- and a sweet covered in fluff from a deep corner. He routed in another pocket, from here he took a delicately folded cloth. Unfolding it he realised that this was a tabard from the Knights Templar. Blood stains were visible despite the item showing its age and it being washed. He wondered briefly if any of the blood was Jacks.

"Where's the key, where's he hidden the damn key?" he mumbled

"Hey wait till the corpse has cooled at least!" Hart turned away disgusted. He'd done most things in his life but robbing a corpse was not something he'd happily do- Oh he would do it, but he wouldn't be happy about it.

Jack moved weakly pushing away Flicks rummaging hands.

"Not dead yet" he whispered

"Tell me where the key is. I can save you" Flick tried to coax the information from Jack.

Jack mouthed something. Unable to hear Flick leant in closer.

"Not. Bloody. Dead. Yet. Hidden it. Give me my…" Jack managed to whispered.

His hand fell loosely and he lay there.

"Gods above and below Flick This time you've push it too far. I think he's dead!" Hart stared down at Jack, intently watching for life. He grabbed Jacks body and shook him, willing him to life. Nothing, it was now just a limp piece of rapidly cooling meat. He sniffed, slightly upset for missing the opportunity to kill Jack himself. He yelled out in disappointment before a thought struck him; old fashioned CPR, that should bring him back Hart climbed on the table and knelt beside Jack's rapidly cooling body. He could hear Flick rummaging behind him, but ignored him. As he pushed rapidly on Jacks breastbone, he counted under his breath before taking a breath and forcing it into Jack's mouth.

Push" I"

Push "will"

Push "not"

Push "let"

Push "you"

Push "die"

Breath

Push "You Bastard Don't you dare go and give up you owe me!" He could feel Flick standing beside him as he tried to resuscitate Jack.

~~oOo~~

The warmth of the table dissipated and the cold from the floor flooded back into his body. He bucked to release the pressure of the thing on his chest. There was nothing there. He sat up and looked around, finally focusing on Phire. She looked older than before, more tired than when they were sat together on the stairs.

_Jack! The sightless want you. They are invading your own protected place. They have a way in through the drug. _

She was still standing; holding on to the two wires. Tears were streaming down her face, she spoke as she sobbed, each word punctuated with a gasp of breath:

I cannot do this without your help. You were wrong to send me….

Her back arched, as pain racked her body,

_They,'re here_, she breathed. She wrapped the bare wires round each arm.

_You have to stop them Jack. They want you: they want your gift to destroy this universe and this reality._

The kitchen wavered, taking on an ethereal quality, mist seeped through various windows and up through the floor. He could see within the mist dark figures building. A guttural hiss could be heard from behind. He spun round; bewildered as to what was going on. From out of the mist stepped a familiar figures, He'd last seen her on the game station, he could almost smell her scent a longing overcame him. "Rose" he whispered. The figure shook her head and grabbing his hand dragged him through each and every room in the house.

In the centre of each room was a figure, a familiarity emanated from each one. Some he recognised, others he didn't, but each one glowed. Each one said the same thing

_Hearts breath is distracted, he cannot save you. Daughter of the last will not save you. You have to make them see. Remember it all Jack. Give us more time. WE NEED MORE TIME._

In the hallway the echo of the figures built into a crescendo their cry became deafening, then suddenly it stopped. Jack felt a pulling at his core, something wanted him, and it was familiar, a need and a hope. A bruising pain spread out from his breastbone, he felt his lungs inflate with breath not taken.

~~oOo~~

Jacks vision tunnelled, he could feel himself being drawn back as though someone had attached a rope to his back and was pulling him through mud. He heard laughter, but this wasn't the joyous laughter of friends or lovers. This was a dark insidious laughter, of something not right.

He couldn't say it was evil laughter, hell he'd been classed as evil on hundreds of planets and he knew he wasn't evil in the general sense of the word. Misguided maybe. Even to use the old cliché "following orders" but in this laugh he could hear the end of worlds and the destruction of universes. He steeled himself against the pull and stepped forward.

"_You think one little step will stop us ancient one?" _a voice hissed in his ear. The laugh could still be heard echoing around the house.

The pull came again stronger this time. He heard Phire's scream, loud and pain racked. He fought against the pull, and struggled back to the kitchens where he'd left her.

Shadows surrounded her: she was coiled into a ball on the floor. The wires she previously held lay before her, her hands were gripping her head. She was trying to cover her ears against an incessant whispering. The shadows pulled at her, trying to get her to uncoil. She shuddered. As for a moment she relaxed her hold on her head. A whoop of delight came from the nearest shadow as it pulled her head back by her hair, then it disappeared. She curled up again tighter, sobbing this time. All the time the pull against Jack grew stronger. He knew she needed him, he would stay and fight. He launched himself against the nearest shadow. As he expected he fell straight through. The insidious laugh grew stronger.

"_She is ours now ancient one. With her fall comes yours."_

He lashed out at the unsubstantial figures, anger burning away at him. He watched Phire stretch out then curl up again, her skin crawled over her now gaunt frame.

"_Whilst you have your oblivion, we have our wish"_ the shadows grew darker and solid, till they all stood in front of Jack. They were humanoid in shape. All wore long flowing gowns of the darkest blue imaginable. Dark black hair hung down their backs. Each one turned to face him. Each face was immensely beautiful, and pale. Each one had sown their mouths closed. Great ugly black stiches forced their eyes shut.

Phire was on her knees her sobs were now intermittent.

Jack lashed out again at the closest thing; which simply danced away laughing.

"_We do not see, we sense. And this universe we sense has been corrupted by Time. Time needs to be reversed ancient one and you are the only one who can do this. We will take what is yours_"

He glanced at Phire, who was struggling against the thing inside her. She raised her head and looked towards him. He could see stiches forming across her mouth. He glanced down at the wires by her feet and smiled. She caught his glance.

Thoughts raced through his head. Unbidden a memory came forward, the conversation with the Icon.

"Jack this world is amazing; it has so much potential, it needs to be harnessed in the right way. You just need to be able to make the sacrifice so that those who cannot see it do. This world has all the glory and love that this universe needs that his world has."

Instinctively he knew what to do. He opened his arms in a welcoming gesture. "You want my curse? Come and take it, but it will take more than one!" he braced himself as each sightless threw itself at him. Each one became absorbed. He bit his lip trying not to scream with pain. Blood oozed from the corner of his mouth as his incisor cut into the lip. His skin paled. The thing inside Phire pulled itself out, leaving her panting on the floor and became the last one to throw itself at Jack.

He felt that he could take no more. His skin itched as though it was expanding. He could still feel a pull at his chest. But even the pain from that was now overtaken by new pain as the sightless tore through his body, searching for his gift.

Phire looked up. In front of her she could see Jack; a dark shadow hovered over him. He clutched at his stomach bending double; he lifted his head and turned unseeing towards her. The stitching from the sightless overtaking his own eyes as each individual stich tore into his eye lids closing each one tight. She knew then that they had lost all hope.

Suddenly the overwhelming smell of Plumeria hit her nose. A white gown materialised in front of her. It filled out. Phire stared at the woman now in front of her recognising her at once.

Jack could no longer see or speak, he tried so hard. His eyes refused to open, his mouth could not move. But he could still remember the icons words. So he remembered. He remembered vividly every single wonderful thing he had learned about this planet, every single wonderful thing he had seen in the universe. He remembered the miracle of his brother being born. He remembered the wonderful ships the agency had used. He remembered the variety of species that he had loved and he remembered the love he had made to each and every one.

He could feel the sightless in him slowing their search. Their curiosity gaining the best of them, they gathered in him by his heart watching his memories.

Phire spoke, "E'tahnia is it really you? You died alongside me"

The figure nodded. "I didn't die, the Watchers were there, and they saved me and my child. They taught me a way, and that way could not include Flick. I had to leave him. He had his own path written by the others I had to leave him to this, until now."

She helped Phire up and they both looked at Jack. The writhing under his skin had slowed. The stiches closing his eyes and mouth were fading.

"They are slowing. He is remembering"

"Then he is wining?"

Jack remembered the cold planet of Oaksdquitr and the twins, not just the love they made, but the love of the people. A shadow crossed his memory. Hart. He'd been there. More memories surfaced. Each one with Hart, each one a con, a war, a death. The Sightless howled. Each bad memory became worse than the last. They started their search again.

Phire and E'tahnia looked on as the stiches returned with frightening speed. His pain became visible. His hands grabbed at his skin, trying to pull it off. Tears seeped from under the stitched eye lids.

E'tahnia shook her head. "He needs a shock, something to jolt him back to the good times; they've found the wrong memories"

Phire looked at the ground feeling helpless. Her eyes caught hold of the wires trailing on the floor.

"Will these do?" she asked, but E'tahnia was no longer there. Instead stood a man, tall and gangly, he seemed to be all arms and legs. He smiled in recognition. "Hello again" nervously he adjusted the bowtie. "Well?"

Confused she looked at him, his eyes smiling at her "Doctor?"

The figure nodded

"You've changed"

The man simply smiled. "Well?" he repeated

"The cowboy hat is ok, but the bowtie is a little ridiculous" she replied

"I didn't mean me – Him, Can you do it? Can you kill him. Can you kill him to save billions of other lesser lives?"

She picked up both cables "There's no such thing as a lesser live. If I need to kill him I will"

"Good, you'll need this, Left to bottom, Top to right, then hit the blue button place it against his brain"

She stared at the sonic screwdriver he'd put into her hand.

She was brought back to reality as she heard Jack fall to the floor. He looked as though he was having a fit. His skin bubbled and crawled across him. Slowly he was turning black. Quickly she wrapped one set of wires against the bottom of the screwdriver. As she started to wrap the second set around the tip she could feel energy surging through the driver. She approached the prone Jack; he lay on the floor, his body spasming he rolled from his front on to his back. His sightless eyes faced the ceiling. She pressed the top of the screwdriver to his forehead and pressed the blue button. Something streamed through her, energy poured into Jack. Her vision went; she couldn't see, it was all she could do to hold on to the screw driver. All sound ceased; except one. It started low, it was a roar. It sounded like the roar of the ocean on a stormy night. The sound became unbearable. She tried to hold on a little longer, but the vibration of the roar hurt her ears… she let go of the screwdriver; no longer caring if it worked or not. She covered her ears. Eventually the sound stopped. Gingerly she let go of her ears. Slowly her vision returned. She looked round. On the floor lay dusty shadows of the sightless, Jack was no longer there. Just dust and the burnt out remnants of the screwdriver.

She pulled herself up and leant against the table.

The smell of coffee reached her nose.

The words didn't come via her ears they just appeared in her brain.

_THANK YOU_

_What did I do?_

_EVERYTHING, AND NOTHING. WE HAVE MORE TIME NOW. THANK YOU. YOU CAN LEAVE NOW AND GO TO VELON._

_And how am I going to manage that? If he dies, so do I_

The words somehow managed to look apologetic

_NOT SO. THAT WAS OUR …LIE…_

"_What?!"_

There were no words, no noise except the birds singing outside. Sighing she drank the coffee and waited for the right time.

~~oOo~~

They watched as a trickle of blood escaped the edge of Jacks mouth. The papery skin slowing greying. Flick placed a hand on Harts shoulder. "He's gone now" Hart nodded slowly. "I always was crap at this stuff, but he, he could resuscitate the bloody teaching robot and get it to swear to be a better lover, if he'd just do that kiss again."

Hart clasped the body to him. "Bastard you always did get the better of me" he sighed, before laying it back on the table. He placed a light kiss on Jacks lips; he almost missed it, a gentle shallow breath and a dark shadow crossing his face, there was a slight flicker of an eye. Realisation dawned on Hart. This was a con. Bloody good one too, it had taken him in as well. Flick had turned his back on them, going back to searching for something in one of the cupboards lining the wall; he withdrew an old metal glove, similar to those worn by knights of old.

But this was no ordinary armoured glove, it did something very strange. Those recently dead would return to life again. Admittedly it wasn't for long but it enabled him to ask awkward questions. Often the dead would give the answers in return for the promise of a little extra life. That's all that Flick would give, empty promises, the glove probably could give the extra life, but he hadn't found out a way. The old rumours were that the glove was part of a set. There were originally four of them. Light and dark, life and death, no one had found the other three as of yet.

He let out a short girlish laugh which trailed into a barking cough, before turning back, wearing the glove. Hart started; he'd heard that giggle before. He racked his brains trying to think.

"I want that key. This will bring him back long enough to tell me where the hell it is"

"Whoah! You're not using that! What is it with this key?" Hart stalled for time. Flick came closer raised his hand to place it over Jacks head.

"I can right wrongs Hart, I can get ride of that damn Agency." Another excited giggle. Hart realised where he'd heard it before.

~~~oOo~~~

**It was yet another test day, He'd seen loads before , he'd set them up too. They'd changed the procedure since the year that the Greenfield Deoc– had set about him whilst preparing the test. At least he'd managed to break the guys wrist, in retaliation for spoiling things. He'd set up a couple of dry spinter bombs. The effect of them plus the gas from the ships would give the illusion of terrorist attack. The Sympathists had been more active lately so they needed to be able to handle anything from the start. He sauntered over to the docking bay, and for a moment was in awe at the grace of the ships coming in. They'd travelled through many war zones without a scratch on them. He sighed happily, he loved this job. There was the time travel and the unlimited Hero status gave him adoring 'fans' to shag along side with the chance to slaughter in his own happy little manner. Steele gave him licence to do that, no further questions asked, as long as he got the answers to Steele's original questions first.**

**A girlish giggle swiftly turned into a barking cough behind him, attracting his attention. He heard the mumble "Right the wrongs of the past and destroy this future"**

**He turned swiftly, to see a figure move quickly away from one of the docking posts, the one nearest the fuelling stations. He quickly stepped forward, a tiny green flashing dot was on the post. He recognised it at once. Spinter bomb, armed and very dangerous. He turned to see the figure crouching down beside the platform that the current Director of the Agency was due to give the welcome speech on. **

**It was a sympathist no doubt about that, this would be the third attempt this year. Bizarrely the Core of the agency had reduced guards today. It didn't make sense. But he knew his duty to the agency and that was to protect it first. Pressing the comms button on his wrist strap he barked through to the agents scattered throughout the disembarking volunteers. His head felt like fog, He ran trying to warn everyone. He wanted to describe the figure that was silhouetted against the light. The Directors office was ignoring his call. He tried shouting to the figure that was climbing the steps to the platform, the usual breather mask covering his face, His long coat trailed behind him billowing out from his figure as the ships in front of him refreshed their air. Hart could see the flash of a belt buckle. The figure below the platform turning to him before smiling and using his own wrist strap, disappeared from the scene. **

**Hart felt like he was running through treacle. He could see the bomb in front of him. He knew that he knew how to disarm it, but the memory kept escaping him. His fingers took a life of their own; to his horror he pulled his pistols from their holsters. His conscious became submerged as though under a warm and fluffy child's blanket. Almost disembodied from his own thoughts he could see himself randomly firing off both sets of pistols into the crowds. Panic enveloped the disembarking recruits. He fought himself; he was a protector not a sympathist. He murdered to save lives not to randomly take…A flash from behind, coupled with the exploding fuel station propelled him forward, grinding his face into the floor. Woozily he stood, shaking his head trying to clear the shock. Blood poured from cuts to his face. He yelled again at the Director who was staring in his direction. He heard a voice coming from his wrist strap, the Director was speaking to him,**

"**I'm sorry John"**

**The blast from the bomb beneath the platform threw tangled metal into the air, the screams of pain from those caught in the blast would echo in his ears for days to come. The noxious fumes from the fuel stations threatened to overwhelm him. The blast wave knocked him off his feet hurled him head over heals towards the Ventarni ship. He felt agonising pain in his hip, before nothing momentarily enveloped him. **

**He opened one eye as best as he could, he could still feel the pistols in both hands. He released them and looking up above him, he could see a precariously balanced plaxon tube resting on the damaged ship. Across from him was the Director. The breather mask a shattered mess. He could hear the rasping breath from here. Hart rolled over and screamed in pain, a quick mental check came back with a damage report. Hip bone displaced and broken. He gingerly felt his left leg. Yep there was the tip of the bone, poking through his trousers. The Klaxons going off around him annoyed him. Did they have to be that loud? He could hear the Director whisper into his own comms strap to get the klaxons shut off. Mercifully they did. But as they did another bomb went off further down the Docking Bay. The blast wave pushing at the balancing Plaxon tube. The thing shattered and tumbled to the ground, pinning the Director to the ground straight through his stomach, whilst the large shards peppered Harts body. Several nerves were severed as the plaxon shards embedded themselves deep in Hart. **

**Through the pain he saw a figure materialise against the Director, The girlish giggle and cough started again. The man gloated over the dying Director, before looking at Hart and shaking his head in disappointment "You were the only one that I could have relied on Hart, but you fought it, Pity I would have enjoyed the trial" Within moments he was gone.**

**.**

**.**

**Hart finally awoke with a worried Steele and that bloody Deoc looking up at him. He managed to gaze round the room. He figured he was in the 'float'. He could feel the breather tube going into his nose, pumping painkillers and oxygen into him. He couldn't move, a panic enveloped him. 'What the hell am I doing here?' he glimpsed a reflection of himself in the polished metal in front of him, his back was open, medical robots fusing the nerves together, as best as they could, removing the trace particles of the plaxon tube. He couldn't talk, he couldn't scream with out the float flowing down his throat. A nurse bustled in whispered something to Steele who looked at him and nodded before sending Deoc away. At least he couldn't see the next indignity he'd be put through. He remembered some of Steele's reassuring words before the whirling motes of Nanogenes infused his body and unfortunately painfully repaired every severed nerve the medic bots couldn't, healed every painful scratch and restored him to "factory settings" which basically meant he'd have to go through the agonies of the enhancements again.**

**Two weeks later he was sat in the Directors office waiting for interview. He took his time looking round. He knew that the Director was obsessed with a tiny third planet in the furthest reach of the universe. He also knew that the planet was home to the start of the agency. On a hook by the wall hung a faded blue long jacket – the old buttons on the epaulets still shone. The old oak desk looked as though it had seen better days, one thing though it was solid. On the desk stood a now paper thin blue and white striped mug. Beside that an ancient pistol, Hart knew his weapons and recognised this one well. A Hologram picture flicked through its programme. He didn't recognise any of them, although the little Japanese woman was pretty. His attention was turned as the Director walked through the door. **

"**Music" he ordered the machine by the desk. The whole office was a strange mix of ancient and new. Hart recognised the music coming through. Earth, 1940's. He'd been there once with Steele, Didn't think much of it. Not much really happening. Oh the war was a little distraction at the time, but it didn't appeal to him, it wasn't up close killing. They'd had however managed to stop the introduction of weapons from his own timeline, just not managed to find the one who was doing supplying the weapons to the British. **

**The Director confused him...the last time he saw him he was definably a hairs breadth away from being dead, yet within two weeks he was stood here in front of him apologising and issuing conflicting orders to 'hunt the bastard down'. Nanogenes were new, he was the first to trial them, but even they couldn't bring someone back from the dead. Even worse than confusion, was the revelation that it had been him placing the bombs! His mind had been tampered with whilst on the Axim. He'd been trying to bring down the agency from the inside. But he'd fought the conditioning, and not set them. So in respect of that there would be no trial, he would be allowed…his style of vengeance. Him and Steele were to wipe them all out. No one attacks the directors agency. They sat there quiet listening to the Director, Hart watching the mask for any sign of humanity, a giveaway as to who or even what the director was. All he ever saw was a dark shadow flicker across the frosted glass.**

~~~oOo~~~

That's what he was doing now; he was hunting down the bastard that had tried to kill him and his agency. It had become personal now, this was the man who'd orchestrated so many atrocities, the attack on the director, the almost failed mission on Foundation, and he could probably trace him back to the fight on Oaksdquitr. Possibly even the crazy war on Scion 5, the death of his friends Vicktor and Rashid had irked him. He remembered taking that irksomeness out on Jack many years ago, oh how he'd enjoyed that power of the whip flaying a beaten and disillusioned Jack. He shook his head dispersing the distracting memories and remembering why he was here. Revenge. He wanted revenge for the deaths of the ships, and for the death of the trainees. Revenge for their families, and simply because the only man he ever had ever respected and obeyed had told him to. It had taken a back seat and years to do, and now he'd found him. He clenched and unclenched his fist. His mind raced, the steadying internal conversation with himself became drowned out with the build-up of years of anger. This pent up anger burst its dam and Hart let his fist do the talking. He lashed out his years of waiting, making it even more forceful. It connected loudly with Flicks chin, propelling him backwards. Flick grunted as his back connected with the edge of the wooden table. Glasses crashed to the ground, shattering where they fell spilling their contents over the hard tiled floor. Feeling his jaw whilst still trying to shake the stars out of his head Flick momentarily looked puzzled at Hart.

They circled Jacks prone body on the table, weighing each other up, looking for a weakness.

"Why?" Flick breathed, "What in the name of the gods brought this on?"

The penny dropped as an enraged Hart slid across the floor towards him; he could plainly see his murder written in Harts eyes. He reached out and picked up a broken stem of a glass and pushed himself up off the floor. Hart kicked out but missed the slippery floor taking him off balance, giving Flick an opportunity to retaliate; lashing out with the broken glass. Hart regained his balance, only to be grabbed roughly from behind, fingers grasping his hair, pulling his head back till Hart could only see the ceiling, he was dragged back towards the countertop, and the remaining liquid Flick slipped only slightly, but giving Hart a momentary edge, he ran the edge of his boot down Flicks shin. The once soft leather now had a bladed edge at his heal. Silently Hart thanked the gods for the mercenaries for their obsession with turning anything into a weapon. Flick howled as the knife bit into the bone. But still he held on to Harts head his intention was clear, he was going to get that drug into Hart one way or another. Hart twisted, wincing at the handful of hair that Flick pulled out, he danced out of the way before spinning round and punching Flick in the stomach causing him to double over gasping for breath. Hart took the opportunity and dragged hart to the counter and slammed his head off the top it. Dazed Flick reached behind him trying to grab Hart, randomly swinging the stem of the glass towards him, trying to slash him. Flick twisted to face Hart tiny glass splinters were embedded into his face. Hart smiled slightly, until Flick got reached out and grabbed Harts collar dragging him closer, both men pummelled at each other's bodies until they both staggered back trying to catch their own breath, Flick wiped his face pulling at the broken shards of glass, causing little pricks of blood to rise from his face. Hart laughed, it was a hollow sound with no actual joy in it. ""You Bastard, You set me up to take the fall, you're the planner. It's all because of you, isn't it? The "Holy War" in New Jerusalem, The betrayal of the remaining hybrids. My Inoculation on the Axim, The bombs in the agency?"

Flick nodded, "You wouldn't listen, The Watchers they've infiltrated everywhere, they want to keep us on our knees. Beholden to them, But I know their secret, they had the key. The one that can re-wind time. I…" He didn't get a chance to finish as Hart rushed him, but Flick was too fast for him, and squared his shoulders to take Hart's impact. He punched down smartly getting Hart in the groin, who collapsed in shock and a tight ball of pain.

Dazed Hart rolled onto his side breathing heavily before grabbing the edge of the table and heaving himself up, he scowled at Flick who was stood across the room, he was bent forward, his hands pushing against his knees keeping him in some form of upright.

"You made such a pretty sleeper agent too Hart, but something in you fought back, Fought the conditioning, and broke through the drug. Looks like you were not man enough for the responsibility I gave you. You were supposed to kill the director, not rescue him, You're a fool, in a few years you'll be the last of the few on the run, desperate for money" he leaned forward sneering, " A nothing just a Con Man out for the odd Diamond, just one last job, that'll be the one that kills you". He knew that if he was to win, he'd have to push Hart to the edge, make him forget how to fight, and to just rage. He tried to step back; gloating, watching for the flash of anger in Harts eyes, but he was stopped, something was grabbing his arm. Startled Flick looked down; a nasty smile had replaced the vacant dead look that Jack had worn. For a dead man the grip was tight. Jack swung himself off the table. For an allegedly dead man this return was short of miraculous.

Jacks voice was quiet yet forceful. In his hand he held the golden key twisting it, letting it catch the light.

"You Bastard, for this tiny little key, you've killed, enslaved and…"

"We all have" Flick interrupted.

"For the right reasons, we brought peace, we saved lives, we…"Jack's voice rose to almost shouting

"We fought, conned, killed, stole, and bought peace" replied Flick

"Jack he's got a point, its just a different take on…"

"Shut up Hart. I'll deal with you later" Flick growled

"I want my revenge Jack, I want what is mine, they killed my wife, my child, My World, I want what's mine and that key will get it."

Jack pulled a small key from a pocket; in the light it shone a golden sheen.

"This little thing?" He rolled it through his fingers

"This tiny little key is the key to the power you want?"

"No it's a key to return things to how it should be, I can manipulate the rifts to what I want. It opens the power centre in Holding. The rift there will open the T'sha zone, The released Timelords will give me my revenge."

Jack shook his head. He grabbed Flick and pulled him close. They stood nose to nose, squaring each other up.

"How little you know the Time lords" Jack spat. He hadn't noticed the base and broken stem of a glass in Flicks hand. In one fluid movement Flick punched Jack, the glass puncturing through Jacks clothing and embedded itself in his stomach. The pain shot through Jack making him double over, dragging Flick down with him.

"You're a fool Jack… Together we could have changed things…Changed the agency, changed history"

"You can't mess with history Flick"

"Why not? You have so many times. Do you know who set up the agency and why? I found the password Jack. I got to the core and found the details of the founder… It was set up to correct mistakes made in the past. Mistakes and lapses of judgement. Genocides and atrocities, creations of new species, all were errors that lead to its creation. Remember … time is cyclical. For every cause there's an event. For every event there's a cause. "

"Flick give it up you're rambling!"

Flick pulled him close. "I don't know how you do it, but every where I turned to research the agencies history I found mentions of you, or the Doctor or Torchwood. Then I found the heart… Its …"

Once again Jack found his conscious roughly shoved into the background as a weakened Phire took over his body. Jacks hand shot up and grabbed Flick by the throat. He squeezed, slowly using Flick as a support Jack climbed up to stand face to face with Flick. Hart stood by watching impassively, picking at the dirt from under his nails.

The whispered voice that came from Jack next was not him. Flick recognised it at once.

"Phire?"

"E'tahnia isn't dead, Ell isn't dead, they left you, wanted no more to do with you. Your memory is nothing more than a mix of guilt for your past actions and actual memories as you swept through the universe dishing out your brand of peace. It's your entire fault they left. Live with it"

Whilst Phire spoke, she controlled Jacks fingers; he punched in co-ordinates on Flicks on wristband.

"No that's not true... they died. I saw them," Flick denied. Tears streamed down his face.

"You lied to them Flick. You did the assault on the Presidential Palace. You wanted the power. You recruited other agents, Steele, Roo, Taiga, Vito and Hart. But Hart betrayed you all" Flick gazed angrily over at Hart who smiled and gave a little wave.

"It was him that sent you to Holding. You Killed Roo and Taiga. Not Jack, he helped Hart subdue you. Get over it."

Jack took a pain filled breath before clenching his fists and brought them up into Flicks face, knocking him backwards into Hart, before slumping into the chair behind. The stem of the glass was sticking out of his stomach. He pulled it out and exhaled sharply when he saw how much of it had actually been stuck in him.

Hart took over and punched Flick in the Kidneys several times before resuming his fight eagerly. Eventually he overwhelmed Flick, who lay on the floor panting heavily. Hart sat upon his back grinned wolfishly at Jack. He bound Flicks arms using Energy Cuffs behind his back.

"Let Me GO!" Flick roared.

Jack stopped leaning against the table to crouch by him.

"And give you this? Forget it!" He placed the key behind on the table.

"Finders keepers. I found it I get to keep it"

He punched Flicks wrist strap activating the co-ordinates that Phire had punched in. Hart grabbed Flick by the wrist in an attempt to punch him down again. Flick gazed in to the cold steel eyes and winked. Taken aback it took Hart a moment to simply break Flicks wrist above the battered time agents strap, before the electric blue light engulfed Flick and in a howl of pain Flick disappeared.

As he turned back to Jack, Hart smirked to himself, the cold eyes momentarily turning black and a line appearing across the lids as he blinked.


	27. Chapter 27 Licked !

**Warning, this gets a little naughty further down. You have been warned!**

* * *

Jack slumped back into the chair. His hand grasping the cloth that Flick had previously removed from his jacket against the puncture wound in his stomach, his face pale and his breathing laboured. Hart wandered over to gloat.

"Not as fast as I used to be" breathed Jack. The pain slowly dissipated as he healed.

"Yeah well I could always beat you anyway- Used to enjoy it too" He became serious

"Jack, I really thought you were dying"

"You of all people should know the oldest trick in the book; you use to be very good at tricks. Remember when you tried it on Oaksdquitr?"

Hart nodded

"Yeah. I _WAS_ dying though. Being shot by a pulse bolt and then electrocuted doesn't do a lot for me. And you… you had buggered off. Some woman found me and made me all better. I remember we played some wonderful games"

"I got the power off then I sort of got waylaid"

"Yeah… laid, that I can believe"

Jack stood; his hand pressing tightly over the fast healing wound, to face down Hart.

In his mind a door opened and the memory of the first mission with Hart resurfaced…

_~~oOo~~_

_It was cold here, no strike that; it was always cold here, but still he hung around waiting. Hart was supposed to be coming today with the rest of the gear. Most of the stuff they'd traded was here it was Hart's few tweaks that needed shipping to ensure the deal. So with him being the newbie, he'd drawn the short straw and had to wait on planet for him and help close the con, whilst the others had fired over to set up the new mission. Once again Hart was over two hours late. _

_He stamped his feet yet again trying to get the blood to circulate properly in the cold. It was his first proper mission since joining the agency. He suspected that being the newbie he'd got all the duff stuff, to see how he'd coped. So far he'd managed to replace the carrier, the coat, even several of the weapons. He smiled to himself; it was only just visible outside of the fur-lined hood wrapped round his face. He'd won, charmed or stolen all the replacements so far, but still he was stuck here in this backwards town on a backwards planet that thought snowball fights were a source of fun. Ok these snowballs were laced with something that usually ended up exploding in one form or another, either paint, hallucinogenic chemicals or plain old explosives. He'd spent a fascinating evening after being hit by several covered in purple paint, talking to a very interesting two-headed dog. The rest of the team mercilessly took the piss out of him the rest of the week- until the same chemical collared them. Hart seamed to take it in his stride, although no one actually could tell where his headspace was. He was just so cold, so psychotic. Perfect addition to the team he thought. _

Sodding sodding sodding COLD!_ He yelled in the comfort of his own head. _

Bloody Hart, never could be on time if he tried, he'd be late for his own funeral._ He thought._

Oh?! Hello pretty who are you?

_His wandering eyes followed the woman as she intentionally sashayed past him, her own eyes full of mischief. He glanced up over her head to the clock tower checking the time. Steam formed on his exhale. _

Bloody Hart should leave you to it.

_The woman sashayed past again. Her body wrapped in a delicious M'tan fur. She's got to be worth something if she's wearing M'tan. He thought. The animal had been hunted into extinction centuries ago, only the wealthiest would trade in antique fur, or hand it down through the ages. She stopped mid sashay and smiled at him, welcoming him. She beckoned him over. _

_He had time he supposed. He stamped his feet attempting to bring in some feeling to them. Despite the fur line boots he was still cold. He glanced at her again. She was still waiting, unspoken words passed between them. _

Sod this he can wait for me.

_He pulled away from the wall. Wrapped up in the fake fur lined heated jacket he felt cosy, warm, and willing. She beckoned further and he followed, glancing around to ensure no one saw him. Her red boots left trails in the snow easy for him to follow. Smiling wickedly he did, then turned the corner huffing on his hands. No female (or even male) liked cold hands all over them. The woman stopped and turned to him, opening her coat. She was naked under all that fur, He looked her up and down appraisingly. _

"'_Nice boots," he purred his eye brows arched suggestively._

_She leant down, one pair of arms steadying her; the other pair delicately reached out to smooth the ruches out of the leather of the laced boots. He leaned in for a kiss before being physically swung round and pinned against the wall by her. She kissed him ravenously, running her hands down the Jacket, partially unzipping him exposing him to the elements, and then pulling it down restricting his arms. As one pair of hands held his head close forcing rough kisses on him, another was grabbing his backside, pulling him close. _

"_Oh?! A Dom! Not played that game for a while" _

_He gasped for air; she shimmered in the cold breeze, and leant in again. He closed his eyes, their lips met in a kissing, biting movement. His felt his lip being bitten and a feeling of roughness against his own skin. He opened his eyes. Where the woman had been was now a male, muscular and cold. The exposed blue skin had tattoo swirls over it, the male smiled, He smiled back, and this was no problem in his book. He was always a willing partner regardless of the orientation, or placement of the necessary equipment. The male pinned him again the wall arm to arm, an additional pair of arms spread his legs placed a hand down his trousers, searching. He offered up a silent prayer to the gods, thankful that he'd remember to put warming underwear on. He really didn't fancy explaining what the cold would do to this male's genitals. He pushed back, hard, enjoying every moment. The male shimmered again, this time He watched. The once female/male, had, what could be only described as a full body sneeze, and the whole became separated. He raised his eyebrows, even more fun - twins. The twins smiled and moved back, beckoning him further down the alley. He took a deep breath, the cold air attacking his lungs, he turned to follow them. He stopped as he hit a furry wall. He looked up, and then looked up further; the man blocking him was 8 ft tall and as broad as wide. A tusked smile peered down. _

_His wrist strap bleeped. Automatically it switched to audio. _

"_Oi! Newbie! Where the hell are you?" The sound of pulse fire could be heard. The comms crackled before springing back to life, Hart was alternating between speaking to him and yelling at his attackers._

"_Shit! Stop bloody moving so I can ..." a sickening crack was heard._

"_Get your sorry arse back here Newbie! Oomph that was my bloody Jacket you bastard, do you know how much that cost?" _

_The furry man looked down at him listening to the comms_

"_Ur friend?" he asked_

_He shrugged "not really"_

"_Bastard! I heard that you snotty nosed arse" Hart's voice crackled over the strap. "Look. Do you have to. Umpf. Really. Point that thing. –git- at me. Newbie! NOW!"_

_He smiled to himself, Hart used punches like a punctuation scatter bomb when ever he was talking and fighting. He recalled the many times Hart had bragged how he could handle himself in a fight, well now he was able to prove it._

"_U like them?" The wall turned and gestured to the twins. The female peered behind the furry wall doing the offering._

"_20 kana" it stated_

"_That's a lot" _

_The wrist strap crackled again._

"_Newbie get here and…" He heard an old pistol crack and a thump."…that fucking HURTS! …Newbie need you here now…" _

_He shrugged. "Suppose I better help him"_

_The man stared at him then at the twins pointedly_

"_And them?"_

"_I'm coming back, keep them warm for me"_

_The wrist strap struggled to connect… a weakened voice came over the audio "Newbie. Watch stopped.. Get Here. . Snow melting. Electrics raw." the voice was slowing starting to rasp. He remembered that 'watched stopped'' was code for badly hurt, possible death, but Hart had used that several times already this mission for less than life threatening situations. _Probably crying wolf again.

_He shrugged, "I'd best go help him." he turned, the disappointment at the lack of finally having some fun on this frozen planet left a bitter taste in his mouth._

_A hairy arm blocked his way "20 Kana" The man insisted_

"_What?"_

"_U owe 20 Kana"_

"_No I don't. Didn't get anywhere"_

_But still the wall insisted_

"_20 Kana now or break something of urs"_

_He sighed "Get one of them to turn off the electrics to the warehouse first"_

_The wall nodded. The male stepped delicately out from behind the wall and ran to the warehouse._

"_20 KANA NOW!" the wall roared. _

"_Ok keep your fur on!" he delved into a pocket and retrieved a pulse gun. He pointed it at the huge man, who simply smiled reached out and crushed the end of it rendering it useless. Still holding on to the wrong end of the weapon he was pulled towards him_

"_OH Shit"_

_He punched upward aiming for the gut, but that was solid and the punch only served to wrench his arm. He tried again; kicking out at the huge mans legs intending to poleaxe him. It was like kicking a brick wall. Nothing happened. The man just stood there laughing. He jumped and punched him in the face. That finally got a result. Enraged the man grabbed His arm and twisted in opposite directions. He screamed aloud as both bones in his forearm shattered before falling to the floor whimpering and cradling his shattered arm. Boxing away the pain he finally stood. He awkwardly grabbed the closest thing to him; a snowball. The female, hiding in a corner, finally picked up a large snow covered block and threw it at the huge man. It bounced off his head and landed against his shoulder. The man collapsed in the snow, unconscious and only just breathing._

_For good measure he still threw the snowball at him which erupted in a ball of noxious gas. He rapidly covered his mouth and noise so he didn't inhale. Another night of talking to non existent things was not his idea of fun… _

_Though pain filled eyes he stared at the woman in surprise._

"_You have to know their soft spots" was all she would say. She knelt down beside him tenderly taking the shattered arm in her hand, the pain was pretty intense but he was managing it, boxing it up and squirreling it away. _

_Through the fog he could hear shallow breathing on the wrist strap from Hart, then stilettos clicking on a concrete floor. _

"_Go away lady" Hart could be heard to rasp._

"_Gods above that's far too much blood to casually loose. You'll die if I go away. Can you walk? If you want to live, you need to come with me sunny Jim"_

_He heard the grunt as Hart was forced to stand._

"_Bleed on this coat and I will make the rest of your life miserable" Her voice warned._

"_Hey you're the one with the Good Samaritan complex" Hart was just about audible._

_He couldn't turn off the comms link due to his arm being completely useless; so he had to listen to Hart yelling as his rescuer pulled him up, and away. He could hear the click of the stilettos and the drag of Harts feet, the eventual slam of a carrier door._

_A howl from Hart wrenched the air from the Comms. _

"_Oh do shut up, I haven't even touched the bloody bullet yet. Here…" The weakened protestations of Hart as his rescuer removed the age old bullet from Hart could be heard, as could the not so delicate squelching of someone rummaging around in a body._

_The blue woman leant over him and gently turned off the comms. _

"_Before he comes round home we go" She told him, her wicked smile coming back._

"_Not going to be much use with this till it heals" he replied looking pointedly at his broken arm._

"_No matter we repair you, not as backward as you think" her heavily accented voice took on a double sound as her male twin arrived. _

_Before he stood he managed to rummage awkwardly through the pockets of the man on the floor._

Seems like a good day all round. I'm up 30 Kana and on a promise_. He kicked the man viciously in the gut, forgetting the solid wall of muscle. The sheer force of impact sent a shudder through him as he managed to strain a muscle He limped round in circles swearing vehemently. Strong blue arms swept him off his feet. _

_Between them they insisted on carrying him to their home. It was a rough affair but homely. The med unit was the best he'd seen; it even rivalled the ones in the agency. The twins stood him in a large what could be only described as a shower unit. They bickered slightly in their own language before she pressed the large blue button. From the head of the "shower" a steady stream of red lights swirled around him._

"_Relax" he was instructed by the double voice_

_He did, he felt a tingling all over him, almost ticklish. The dull ach in his groin muscle and in his arm slowly dissipated. All too soon the relaxed feeling disappeared as the itch started in his arm. He recognised it as the bone knitting together._

_He almost fell out of the cubicle and into their arms where they gratefully held him and he finally had his fun._

_Two weeks later he sauntered back to the meeting point and waited. Hart was stood alongside Steel and Roo. Viktor was doing all he could not to smirk. He threw back down the weapons he'd been given._

"_I can quit now or you start taking me more seriously" He instructed Steele. Hart choked back a snort. Even he wouldn't have done that and defiantly not to Steele._

"_I'll take your resignation now. Boy" Steel spat "You allowed an experience Agent to get taken down, whilst you …. traded fluids!"_

"_Traded fluids, changed the ruling regime, negotiated a peace and the Highers have a nice new planet into their collection" The double voice of the twins came from behind him. The other agents stared open mouthed. He opened his palms in a 'what have I done?' gesture._

"_Highness" Steele managed to utter. _

_The woman threw a large bag of gems at his feet. "You're done here. There's your fee. Come back in few months. You'll need to collect this one, we're …let's say …borrowing him. He has some interesting ideas. Plaktukus* will be needed for a while" she grabbed Jacks hand _

""_Come Mylimasis** we have so many issues to attend to"_

_Hart finally found his voice… "You're going to let Newbie get away with this? He almost got me killed!" _

_Steele looked down at Hart. "Get over it, pick up the fee. You can have half his share" before turning on his heel and making his way back across the ice field to the waiting ship_

_Hart strode over to him and stood there snarling and staring…"You'll not cross me again Newbie"_

~~~oOo~~~

The two men bristled. Old arguments and old solutions returned to their minds, Hart opened and closed his hands bunching them into tight fists. Jack stood and squared up to Hart. The two men stared at each other, Jack staring down into Hart's eyes. They sized each other up, each tensing waiting for the first blow. Their breathing became one rhythmic noise. Jack reached out first and tenderly ran his hands down Harts arms, making him shudder in anticipation. All thoughts of beating Jack into a pulp gone, chase away by desire. Subconsciously his own pheromones kicked in. Musk and cinnamon filled the air. Hart lifted his face to kiss Jack, who grabbed the hair at the back of Harts head and pulled it back, holding Hart's head in place. Harts breathing quickened. Expecting, wanting that hard embrace.

With the resurfacing of the memory, Jack recalled the conversation with Cornelia at the side of the Sienne. The parts clicked together, She was the one who'd saved Hart, and he'd paid her back viciously… Jack lowered his face.

And head butted Hart squarely on the forehead. Stunned Hart staggered backwards. Jack angrily turned and walked away. Hart shook his head to dissipate the stars that he was seeing. He darted forward and kicked the back of Jacks knees pitching him forward, into a chair. Jack rolled out of the chair and on to the floor prone to John's boot rapidly coming towards his ribs.

Jack caught the boot and twisted his hands forcing John's leg to turn at angles it was never supposed to go. A yelp brought John down to Jacks level.

"What the fuck was that for?" Hart yelled

"Cornelia"

"Who?"

"Blond woman, you attacked a couple of months ago, Raped her, Left her having a fit in the stables back in Tarascon."

"Cornelia?... oh her, yeah you mean my Ex"

"She's my friend…I owe… I owe her my life"

"She's my bitch soon to be EX wife- and for the record I didn't rape her" They righted themselves, scrambling to be the first to stand and gain the advantage. Jack spun round to face Hart.

"Why don't I believe you? You have a history of it. You have no excuse!"

"She wanted it"

"Oh really? How could you figure that? The fact she was breathing and had a pulse?" Jack was shouting now.

"Oh to be as pure and moralistic as you. You, the man that never played the games. Never used his rampant sexuality to get what he wanted. What did you used to say? Oh yeah 'Cum on a con' when ever you used to get a hint of them wanting it"

They were face to face shouting at each other now. The anger was mounting. Hart placed the first blow. Jack doubled over clutching his stomach, Hart brought up his foot and placed it firmly in Jacks crotch. Jack rolled in agony, a tight little ball of pain.

"That. Was. A cheep shot. You git" he gasped. He automatically rechecked his stomach to see if the wound had reopened. He was healing remarkably fast. He reached out grabbed Harts foot and pulled, so Hart fell over, crashing into the table, and landing on the broken glass scattered on the floor. Jack managed to stand and dragging Hart upwards pinned him against the middle of the table. He punched down, but narrowly missed Hart's face. Hart wriggled free. Laughing

"Come on old man! You've become soft. What did he get you hooked on? Wine Gums?"

"Old man! I'm as old as you!"

"Nah I'm three days younger. You've travelled more and it's aged you, made you slow. It's worn you down"

He teased and pouted, making Jack even angrier. He flew at him, and kicked him above the knee then dragged the edge of his boot down Hart's shin.

Cursing Hart limped after Jack as he ran into the hallway. He slammed into Jack pushing him into the intricate wainscoting running around the hallway. Jack spun and raised his fist to slam it into Hart's face, only for it to be caught mid blow and held there. Panting, exhausted and bleeding Jack stood waiting for the return blow.

It never came.

Hart pressed forward, his eyes full of want. He placed a hard kiss on Jack's mouth. His tongue teased Jacks as he eventually bit his lip. Jack responded in kind. Pushing his free hand down towards Hart's crotch, to finally feel the bulge of Harts confined erection. He tried fighting his own burgeoning erection. He was supposed to be giving Hart a good pasting, nothing else.

"You deserve a pasting" he breathed in between kisses

"Like you're gonna give it to me?" Replied Hart

"You are so bloody cocksure."

"Just the way you like it" Hart teased him.

_Where the fuck are you Phire? Get me out of this_ he groaned internally

He slammed Hart back against the opposite wall. Pawing at his jacket, intent on removing it, either in one piece or many, he didn't care. It needed to be off

"You're wearing too many clothes again," complained Hart

_Phire!_

_You're on your own Jack, _Phire's usually conservative voice shocked him.

Their constant struggle to gain the upper hand saw them go from wall to stair case wall. Twisting and turning, desperation to get to each other, made them rougher and intense. Finally with nips and bites Jack finally won the upper hand. He pinned Hart against the staircase. He could feel his pull of lust encompassing him. He snatched a pair of energy cuffs from the small table and bonded an end round Hart's left wrist, the other end to a sturdy spindle.

"Be a good boy and wait moment." Jack ordered; as he tore the remains of Harts shirt downwards, one sleeve snagging on the bound arm, the other fighting the restrictive ness as not all buttons had popped. Jack snaked his arm round Hart's waist and unbuckled the belt, slipping his hand down Hart's trousers, and squeezed. Hart gasped in anticipation.

"S'nice"

Was all he said. As Jack deftly removed his trousers a small tube of lube fell from a pocket. Jack raised his eyebrows in question. Hart shrugged,

"Used to be a boy scout. Prepared for every eventuality"

As always he was naked underneath his clothing. Perfectly formed muscles tensed in his legs. Jack stepped back and admired the view. Hart pouted and pulled at the cuff. Jack slowly returned and delicately ran a practiced tongue from Harts ear down towards his throat. He grabbed Harts hair roughly and pulled his head back exposing his throat, he nipped and kissed his way down the muscular body, taking in every curve. He teased and bit each nipple for a moment feeling each one harden before running his hands over Hart's thighs to his crotch. He knelt and taking in Hart's cock teased it with his tongue, Hart moaned delightedly Whilst Jacks tongue made its play, Deft little circle movements, taking in the end then back down his length. Jack knew all the buttons to make Hart come. He planned on pressing all but the necessary one. Slyly Jack continued his art, till his own need almost encompassed him. Roughly he pushed Hart round, making him bang his head lightly against the woodwork. Hart swore under his breath. Jacks fingers explored Hart and found their target. He took Hart to the edge before concentrating on his own needs. Roughly he pulled Hart's hips towards him. His own senses were tingling in anticipation. He'd been here years, almost celibate, the few forays into using prostitutes had left him with a nasty dose of STD's so he stayed clear of them, He may be immortal but they still itched like buggery. The years of pent up frustration overwhelmed him and he roughly took exactly what he wanted. Together they arched in pleasure and pain. There was no romance, no gentle caress, this was shear hard want, roughness and aggression.

Eventually….

"MM nice. You always did like to play rough. You gonna let me go now?" Hart finally asked.

Extracting himself from Hart, Jack simply ignored him and wandered off to clean himself up and to find clothes for both of them.

"Hey! Still Here! It's fucking cold in here!" Hart Yelled. He was rewarded by a coat being thrown at him, which he just about managed to catch.

"No fucking good, I can only get one arm in 'cos of these bloody cuffs!" he yelled tugging at them, The spindle eventually splintered. But still the cuff held round the wood, leaving him with a chunk of wood dangling from one wrist. A smile crept across his face. If he could just get to Jack without him noticing then he could batter him about the head a little, maybe just kill him a tiny bit.

Jack wandered back, interrupting his train of thought, a set of clothes over his arm, and a glass of water in his hand. He set both of them on the small table before freeing Hart who had started to shiver.

"Dress" Jack ordered.

"You've changed Jack. I don't know how but you're not the same git I used to know. What was it Flick got you into?"

Jack sighed "He promised me oblivion. I paid the price. It was originally rough Fraticain. I guess I got the oblivion I deserved"

"Shit! The pure stuff is only just legal, where'd he get the ingredients? It's made out of blood from an Osaka priestess. And unless I'm mistaken you don't get many of those round here."

"She died" Jack replied shortly, turning on his heal and walking out of the room.

Jack left Hart to dress. He didn't want to tell Hart any more, he had enough trouble accepting it himself. So he busied himself wandering round the house. Flick had brought with him many Alien items. Most were safe, but never-the-less Jack still smashed them. This period in earth history was still innocent, not the place to start flooding the world with alien artefacts. Others he stuffed into a bag. He had a feeling that he was going to be here a while. He may need backup.

"Whatcha doing?" Hart had found Jack in the Library, absently toying with the key he'd teased Flick with.

"There's far too much here to leave lying around. I need to destroy it." He re-pocketed the key

"So do what we normally do" replied Hart shrugging.

Fifteen minutes later the pair of them were running down the drive. Hart was way out in front, laughing like a maniac. The blast wave knocked Jack off his feet and on to the gravelled floor. Hart ducked as a piece of masonry flew past his head and embedded itself in the garden just in front of him. Still laughing he wandered back to Jack and helped him up. Gently he reached into the coat pocket and removed the key. If that was the key to the universe, he wanted it.

Once on his feet Jack looked back.

"Wait here, I need to go back and see. Make sure it's gone"

Impatiently Hart sighed but waited.

Jack hobbled back up the driveway. Somehow the only thing standing was the door, complete with welcome mat. Smiling to himself, he spoke gently

"Best place to hide the spare"

From under the mat he removed a small tuning fork, the one true key to the universe.

*Plaktukus – hammer

** Mylimasis - lover

* * *

thank you budieswithbilis for your recent fave,


	28. Chapter 28 - Beaten pretty

Semyon had been brought up by his grandmother who had told him nightmarish stories of Plaktukas' anger. He had an incomprehensible aggression to those who crossed hi, yet an undying loyalty to his friends. He had his agility and cunning, imagination and flexibility, yet what was even worse, according to Semyon's grandmother a relentless thirst for revenge. Yet here, sat in Paris he had seen a Man, that's all Plaktukas was. A rather sad lonely man, who's only friend had been ripped from him.

As they spoke of Jacks past, Semyon had come to believe that all Plaktukas was a figment of the imagination of thousands of frightened refugees. Things had been done by others in his name. Plaktukas was a tool in a war that no one wanted. He was nothing more than that. All that this man Jack had was one friend…no she was not even that she was just an acquaintance. And now even she had been taken from him.

Then finally in the silence of the night Jack had left. As he looked back at the broken body of Cornelia a flash of anger had swept across his features. The revelation that Seymon had had originally regarding the stories of Plaktukas being nothing but imagination dissolved into dust. He saw that thuggery, and the thirst for revenge in that single glance.

In the mortuary Semyon had agreed to watch over the remains of Jack's friend as they knew of no one else. Bored he had closed his eyes against the night. He sat there his head bowed and chin resting on his chest, the slow rhythmic sound of his breathing indicated he slept. A yellow light hovered above Cornelia's chest, then slowly settle above her heart. The light danced leaving yellow fire trails that winked out as quickly as they had been born. Semyon snored and woke himself up. He gazed around embarrassed that he'd done such an inelegant thing. The dancing light caught his eye, made him catch his breath. He'd only heard of a heart light before, never seen them. These were gifts from the Lords of Time they could only be used once. The lords themselves had been gifted these by the Watchers and by Lady Time herself. It regenerated them, stopped their hearts running its course. What was one doing here?

A gentle voice startled him, at the door stood a woman. She was petite and homely; a white gown enhanced her dark ebony skin and emerald green eyes. Seymon started. What is she doing here?

"She is not yet to be called to the halls Seymon, she has other tasks, as do you."

"My Lady Magdalane I have done my allocated tasks, it's time for me to die too."

The icon shook her head. "No child, the universe has one more task for you yet, It is a simple task, and once this is done then you may leave and join the rest of the Watchers in Hacalon"

She crossed the room to him and placed a long elegant hand on his head. His eyes closed in rapture, and when they re-opened, the icon was gone, and he knew his final task was to be there and to teach.

The light danced again and again, it split into two and the pair become involved in a complex dance before raising to the ceiling and speeding down into Cornelia's body. One made straight for her heart, the other to below her ribs, almost at her stomach. Semyon knew the signs. He stood and stroked Cornelia's hair before leaving the room. He returned almost immediately holding a bucket and placed it on the floor alongside her head.

He waited patiently for an hour, reading a book, occasionally looking over towards her body. Then he heard an intake of breath

"Bucket on floor, Use that" he said still reading. The sound of someone being sick filled the room.

"Finished?"

"I. Need. Water."

"No doubt you do"

He closed the book and passed a glass of water over to the now living body of Cornelia.

"Does your friend know?"

"What?"

"Does Platukas know that you're…" she cut him off "No to both questions. My father doesn't know either. My mother wasn't one of them; I'm ostensibly a 'bastard'.

"That was not my question. Does he know of the child?"

She shook her head "What child?"

"For someone so clever you are very stupid. The rain here has no drugs in it. You do it here you're going to catch"

~~oOo~~

The few weeks after the return she found herself constantly being lectured by Semyon on her condition. After all it wasn't every day you came back from the dead, all injuries gone and with one extra feature. At first he refused to tell her the whereabouts of Flicks summer residence, but her persistence paid off. With strict instructions she left the guardian and made her way to Flick's house. Various questions of locals throughout the village told her she was chasing a phantom that had stalked through the festival earlier in the week. The description sounded familiar and she picked her way through the streets following the pointing fingers towards the house on the hill. When she arrived there all that was left was a single door, and the burnt remains of a home. She'd scanned the area checking for bodies or even some sign that they are close. Nausea engulfed her and she threw up. The words of Semyon haunted her. She couldn't be… She wouldn't accept it… then the Icons words slipped into her brain. She had to accept it. Jack would need the help later on in his life. She pondered and brooded as she left the remains of Flicks house and walked into the town

~~~oOo~~~

Together Jack and Hart had made their way down the hill into the city square; the festival was still in full swing. By now the revelers had imbibed too much alcohol to wonder about the two strange men, one of which was only half dressed, tight black trousers and an open jacket only just covering his torso, covered in masonry dust, wander through their square. The Carousel, still spun, squeaking out its jaunty little music, the grimacing horses raised and lowered on their non stop tour of their little circle. The pipe organ over by the hall, blew and whistled a merry tune. Both tunes clashed into a mishmash of noise in the middle.

A fire breather blew a column of fire into the air then across their path. Jack's hand on Harts arm restrained him. A pretty young woman smiled wickedly at them, raised her eyes at Hart.

"You are not stopping me this time. 10 minutes max. Meet you over there in that bar"

Jack sighed and let Hart go. Women and bars were to Hart as glitter was to magpies. Once he'd set his mind on something, he would get it by hook or by crook.

The bar was dimly lit and smoky. Jack, for a change, bought a bottle of wine and found a quiet corner overlooking the main door, by a ready exit. Something's he'd learned the hard way, and now had become second nature. There was no way he'd get trapped in a bar again.

He routed through the bag he'd dragged with him from the house. Some of the things he recognized as intensely dangerous. Others were just pretty to look at, some were just plain weird. . He checked the coat pocket. Oh if the key had have been there he would have been disappointed, He knew Hart too well, and to let him have the actual Key would have been disastrous. He'd have auctioned it off to the highest bidder.

He picked up the knights glove, a crudely made thing, long spindly fingers, but so flexible. He was tempted to put his hand in.

_Don't. _ Phire warned in the loneliness of his head. _It's part of a pair. One of a set. That's one of the dark ones, you need to be so sure of using them as it's tricky, you might not be bringing back only one when you use them._ Her voice so certain, gave the commanding tone that wired its-self straight down into his subconscious and he did as he was told.

"Miss me?" Hart slid across the bench grinning inanely, several bottles of wine in his clutch.

"Not particularly this time" replied Jack "What happened to the woman?"

"Usual. Far as I know she's still going strong. Thought I'd leave whilst still ahead. Drink?" He grinned then took a large swig direct from the bottle. Pulled a face at the sour taste, paused a moment, his head cocked to one side whilst thinking about the clarity of the wine. Then downed the rest of the bottle.

Jack shook his head and waved his own bottle.

6 hours later the table was full of bottles of varying size and proof. Hart had passed from wine to spirits.

"These aren't as good as the ones we had in that…that" he paused thinking through the fog of alcohol. "What was that bar in the t'sha zone?"

Jack shrugged "Never been there. It's time locked. How the hell did you get in and out?"

Hart tapped his nose. "Good old pops. Something to do with my aunts, brother. Did a time lords wife. Family"

"Oh. Wine tastes like piss here"

"Shushhhhhhhh. They'll hear us. Don't want the natives restless"

Hart stood up swaying dangerously. Lopsided smile. "Need a walk" He sashayed a little as he walked out of the bar into the cool night air. Jack grabbed the bag and threw money that he'd stolen from Flick onto the bar. He needed to get away from this place. A dull craving ached in his stomach. He wasn't giving in. Suzanne had died, so was unable to make the Fraticain even if he wanted to take it.

_Those weren't your memories you know. They were his jumbled thoughts that he believed had happened. Flick was a very sick individual and of them all only you could get the key. He needed a hold over you. The drug did it for him, that and your own guilt._ Phire was there. She was always there now. He couldn't even get rid of her and think on his own.

_It's almost time for me to leave anyway. Lord Velon is manipulating your friend so she finds us. _

"Who?, the one friend I had here is dead"

"_Really? I think someone neglected to tell her that. A Watcher gave her a gift, She has another path to tread one as equally important as yours"_

Jack shook his head, "One day I'll figure out what is going on here. Do you know why I've lost two years of memories?" He asked her

_No, either you've buried it so deep or they removed it completely. Holding was depraved before Velon came to power. Removing memories was not the worse thing it did. Cyber implants and Cyber genetics were high on the list. Research in Near Death experiences too. Allegedly how you died effected what you saw._

"I could write the book on that" Jack replied aloud rather self-effacingly.

Hart pulled at Jacks sleeve.

"Who are you talking to?"

Jack shook his head "no-one"

"Need to see a doctor about that… Need a piss, going down here"

"Waiting for one, maybe he can tell me… Jack stooped to pick up a loose cobble, and followed Hart down the bottom of the alley.

In the manner of most drunks Hart whistled out of tune as he relieved himself. Jack quietly stepped behind him and raised the cobble, bringing it sharply on to Harts skull. Not hard enough to kill, but hard enough to render him unconscious.

He caught Hart as he crumpled and lay him face down on the alley floor, in the puddle he'd recently made. A cruel smile came to his lips as Phire suggested Harts punishment.

"Why Lady Phire I didn't realise you could be so mean" he whispered

_Live as long as me and you learn to be. Beside I don't like the man. _

Jack swiftly stripped Hart of all clothing and bound his hands behind his back. For good measure he also bound his feet. Both pairs of energy cuffs, would tighten as he struggled. He rolled a sock up and placed it in Harts mouth.

With a swift kick to Harts ribs Jack turned on his heels and left the alleyway. He made his way through the town towards the docks. This time his passage would be quick, and he hoped to be sleeping the majority of it.

_So where are we off to this time?_

Dunno first ship I can get on, we're going there.

~~oOo~~

It was general good luck she'd eventually found Hart. He was naked apart from his boots, His hands and feet were bound by energy cuffs, and he had been gagged by one of his own socks.

She removed the gag and stood over him, waiting for him to come round. She was patient, something he'd taught her. Their relationship had been fiery, terrifying in places, intense, deep, and intensely satisfying. Both knew how to play rough. And the violence of their passion sometimes spilled over into 'normal' life. But a light that burns too bright burns only half as long. With in a year they had spent themselves and the split had been acrimonious and deadly. His re-appearance in the stables had briefly ignited something, before the attack that had eventually lead into them grinding hard into each other.

Then he'd left her there in the stables, bound and gagged as the fit had enveloped her. She despised him. Then in the chateau one thing led to another… She hated herself for giving in to him nearly as much as she hated him.

He groaned theatrically, only to receive a vicious kick.

"Hey!" he growled

"Oh look. It looks like someone tried to beat you pretty."

He chose to ignore that, and struggled to get up. The energy cuffs holding his feet and wrists together made that very difficult. She stood and watched him struggle before he gave in.

She placed her boot on his chest and pressed, the stiletto heel pushing deep into his skin..

"From down here I can see you forgot your panties again. – no VPL" he winced at the pain

"From up here, I can see a vicious little piece of shi"

"Hey don't hold back babe.."

She pressed further down, till he gasped.

"I am not your babe, You will live to regret ever trying to kill me you do realise this" she told him

"Done too much to regret anything. If I'm gonna do it, I'm gonna enjoy it" he replied

"Miss you though. We had fun. Remember the bar in Alpha?"

She nodded "Still picking out glass and splinters from my backside"

"Yeah me too; What about the tight place on Correl 5, What was that place now?"

"You mean the great hall in the convent"

"Yeah they weren't too happy with us fighting on their lunch table"

"No I think it was the fact you tried nailing me to their altar for suitable chastisement"

"Oh yes forgot about that bit" Hart laughed

"It wasn't long after that you and Harkness disappeared for a couple of weeks."

"Yeah… Steel trapped us in the bubble. Next time I see him I swear I am going to push him of the tallest tower I can find. 5 years of living with that insufferable, uptight, holier than thou, tall thin lanky piece of piss, but…" he sighed at the memory.

"but?"

"Yeah he did have a nice one,- anyway you gonna let me out of these things?" He'd some how managed to get his hands from behind him to a more comfortable position in front of him. She always knew he was double jointed, but how he managed that still impressed her. He waved his hands at her, the blue light from the cuffs crackled,

She bent down, her cleavage drew his attention, distracting him whilst she fiddled with the casing on the cuffs. Smiling she stood up to one side.

"Nope. You're staying there for a little while"

He struggled to free himself. Only to be rewarded with a buzz of electricity scouring through his body. He arched in pain his eyes wide open.

Then it stopped.

"What the hell have you done?" he yelled

"Oh given you a little time to think about things"

He struggled again. Coolly she watched at the cuffs visibly tightened and the shock racked his body. He lay panting on the floor

"Bitch" he breathed raggedly

"Yes I think so. You're well hidden here Hart. Give you a week or so to think about things. Then the cuffs will auto release. You will not look for me; you will not even try to contact me. We want nothing to do with you"

"We?"

She sighed, she knew that just saying the words would make her accept the inevitable

"You're going to be a father"

She turned to leave on her heel before turning back to him. His jaw had dropped at the news.

"Trust me this will hurt you a lot more than you can hurt me. Oh you can shout all you want, but I've activated the perception filter. " She blew him a kiss as she walked away.

Listening to Harts yells of protest she walked away and out into the sunshine. Concentrating she prepared and sent a message.

_LORD VELON, PREPARE HOLDING FOR A WEEK'S TIME. SMALL GIFT FOR YOU. MAKE HART COMFORTABLE AND KEEP HIM AWAY FROM SOFT THINGS LIKE PEOPLE. HE'S GOING TO BE A LITTLE MAD. BACK ON TRACK TO FIND PHIRE._

Within moments a reply flashed across her retina.

_YOU'VE PUSHED HIM THIS TIME. SECURE REHAB MADE AVAILABLE. LAST KNOW CO-ORDINATES OF PHIRE IS WAS SOMEWHERE IN A PLACE CALLED WALES. SEND MY WIFE HOME SAFELY GIVE YOU ANYTHING YOU WANT – WITHIN REASON. VELON _

All Cornelia wanted was to find Jack and then be left alone. Her side of the contracts would be terminated. As far as the Highers knew Jack was dead. And that was how she planned on keeping it.


	29. Chapter 29 Raining Again

It had taken her a few months to get the energy up to find Jack. Her body insisted on her resting, and Seymon had taken it upon himself to look after her. So she spent a couple of months in the warmer climes of the south of France, Jack could wait a little longer. Her ship had kept an eye on him as he'd wandered around again, finally settling in some godforsaken place in Wales. It alerted her only now to his impending danger, the warning sound on her wrist strap annoyingly insistent as she ran through the streets of Cardiff.

It was dark and raining yet again. _This planet must be cursed, its always raining_ she thought to herself. She pounded down the streets, searching for his bolt hole. The one place he would hide. From what she knew about him, he had never been a coward, dumb more than anything, act first think later, but this time he wouldn't have time to think. She skidded to a halt, to stare up at a street sign. Chapel of St John. Instinct told her he'll be close to that.

_Ironic, Apparently they used to call Hart, St John. Sarcasm had still not been phased out in the 51__st__ century. _She stifled a snort at the memory of John lying naked in the alley apart from his own smelly socks stuffed in his mouth

She stepped up the pace, her ripped long jacket flying behind her as she ran. Her heels clicked on the cobbles almost in time to the rain. Lamplight softly illuminated the street, reflected back by the puddles. The slow lazy light disturbed as she raced through each puddle, oblivious of the water splash. Storm clouds chased the low simple rain clouds away. Each one tumbling over itself, in desperation to be the thunderhead. The air tingled she could taste the ozone as the air readied itself for a lighting bolt.

A flash lit up one side of her face, her hair plastered to her head. The rain beat a fast tempo on the cobles. A thunder clap rolled over her. But still she kept running. She liked running, made her feel alive. But this time she was running to save a life, Maybe two.

_The gods must hate this place, its all rain, hills and bloody sheep_ she thought.

~~oOo~~

Inside a house, not far from the running woman, a clock chimed the hour. Almost midnight. A haggard lonely soul stood in front of the window watching the rain pound aimlessly against the glass. In the clouds fight for the thunderhead he caught a glimpse of the moon. Its brightness sudden and fleeting, made him shudder, he felt as though millions of eyes were watching him, waiting for a mistake. He shuddered,

_That's the drug talking you know Jack,_

Phire's voice echoed in his ears, He turned back to the mirror and stood there looking into his own eyes, watching someone else staring back at him through his own eyes was disturbing.

"You used me" he accused. In his head he heard the reply.

"_I'm sorry. I had little choice in the matter."_

"I've gone through hell, because you wouldn't let me die. When I wanted to die and rid myself of this… this"

"_Addiction?"_ the voice in his head asked

"Yes this, this dependency." It was the first time he could admit that it wasn't something he controlled. It was something controlling him, making him in to the monster he had been. He didn't like being controlled. Death had been an option. Die and he would loose all physical desire for the drug. He would only have to fight the memory of it. He was good at burying memories. He'd been controlled by a simple drug … and Phire. She'd always been a control freak, and she'd used that same control on him. He hated her. If she' wasn't stuck in head he would have seriously thought about knocking seven bells out of her.

_I know what you are thinking_. Her voice echoed in the emptiness of his skull

"MMM"

_Would like to have seen you try. I was three classes above you_.

Gods he hated that woman, He hated the drug, he hated everything at the moment and the killer was, that he hated himself at the moment. He'd become an echo of himself, he was nothing.

_Don't carry on this train of thought. You are something. Without you we cannot be. The agency created Flick, You were there, and you're just starting the path the gods laid out_.

"Don't start that with me."

_Look, without you Flick would have disbanded the Agency before it even started. Steele, Roo, Hart, L'beth, Viktor and all the others would have lead mundane little lives; the universe would have been a much more dangerous place. Steele would never had been able to save your home world, Hart would have never got out of the T'sha zon_e

"Maybe that would have been a good thing, Keep the psycho in with the other murdering time bastards"

_True, but without you…._

"I'm not normal any more Phire. I'm a nothing, a non entity"

_You are something, something important. You've become an immobile force that only a certain few will be able to tame and their time is not for some years._

_You're a necessity, you need to grow, leave childish things behind you. You will be required to make choices and live with them. You will need to make the ultimate sacrifice again and again. This place, this infant planet needs a guard and the gods chose you. So far this little world is unaware of its future. Come the 21__st__ Century this world will change inalterably, and you will be needed to guide it, everything changes then._

He grunted not sure of himself to speak.

_You're worried,_

"HMMM what if I make a mistake?"

_Make them, it's the only way you'll learn._

"And this planet?"

_Needs you to make the mistakes. – Do you think in the three hundred years I've been around I've not made any? Biggest one of my life was telling Flick my secret_

He raised his eyebrows in a questioning gesture.

_No Jack, It's not for you to know that one yet._

~~oOo~~

She skidded round a corner, the puddles betraying the undulating cobbles beneath her feet. She grabbed a Lamp post to keep herself upright. The house has got to be here somewhere. Another corner another puddle,, this one sent her stumbling against a wall. She righted herself and found herself facing across the street a small brick built house. A bright red door clashed against the dullness of the street. A single light in the first floor window shone like a beacon. Gut instinct told her it was this one.

She knocked loudly and impatiently on the door. After an eternity an old woman answered.

"Hello?"

"I'm sorry but I'm looking for a man"

The old woman spluttered.

"So am I dear, but not at this house. Try the one further down the lane"

"No you misunderstand. I'm looking for a man who may be living here, Tall, Thin, rather attractive, Dark Hair. Sad haunted eyes."

The old woman nodded "You mean the Harkness man. He's a strange one. Always mumbling to himself… is he alright" the old woman made the universal sign for unstable. "I won't have mad people here. They do allsorts of damage"

"Where is he?

"Upstairs took the whole floor. Pays well for a mad person"

Cornelia took the steps two at time, Pausing slightly out of breath. Her hand subconsciously moved down to her stomach. Her once toned stomach bulged giving away its secret. Already she fancied she could feel the child wiggling under her fingers. She should hate Hart for what he did, but despite everything he'd been fun. Shaking herself back to now, she grabbed the balustrade and swung herself round to climb the next flight of stairs. She saw the light spill from under the door at the end of the short hallway. The door was locked and double bolted. Stepping back she squared her should and launched herself in its direction.

~~oOo~~

Jack sighed, "I never get told anything"

T_hink of the fun you'll have finding out. _Phire replied

The door bulged inwards straining against the lock, as someone threw themselves against it

"Jack? JACK Answer Damn you!" a woman's voice called through the wood.

_Are you ready? If there was another way I would take it, but this is the only way I know so that we can safely separate_

"Slightly Scared"

O_f dying? _Phire asked slightly surprised

"Of the future"

_Don't be, it's not something you can change_

He picked up the short blade he'd stolen.

"I've been killed a few times, but never taken my own life." He stared at his upturned wrists.

"Will it hurt?" he asked. Mentally he could feel her shrug.

_Did the other times you died hurt?_

"Yeah Hurt like Hell, but its coming back that's worse." He couldn't stop fighting himself; he didn't want to do this.

_Gods above Jack! Let me, you're not a suicide_

He could hear the door slowly splintering and Cornelia shouting at him to open it. With a small smile at the mirror he felt the blade of the knife being dragged across a wrist, he sucked in a breath as the pain blossomed.

With a shaking hand he turned the knife round and slit the other. Crimson ribbons of blood seeped from the wounds and trailed down his palms, slowly coagulating then dripping from his fingers to the filthy carpet below. He could feel his energy drain away. Not quick enough. Cornelia would try to save him, he knew that. Phire placed the tip of the blade against his chest. He could hear Phire's weakened voice talking to herself.

_Up a little and to the left, The heart isn't in the middle of the chest _she instructed herself before she plunged the knife deep in.

He could feel the shock, the pain, the insistent beat of the heart slowing, beating against the knife. His warm blood ran down his arm before he released his hold on the knife.

The door finally gave way and Cornelia stumbled through it just as he dropped to his knees. Time around him slowed he could feel his breathing ragged and painful. Everything became clearer. Colours appeared bright in the dirty carpet. Slight strands of grey could be seen in Cornelia's hair as she came towards him, the lilac lining of her coat flapping around her. His knees collapsed pitching him forward, he hadn't the energy to stop it. The blade pushed deeper in. He could feel the vibration of her feet running across the floor. His vision tunnelled, the blackness enveloping him. He could feel her manhandle him over and rest his head on her lap. The warmth of his own body abandoned him. His breath became ragged and the damaged heart tried to pump what little blood was left in him up to his brain. He felt her tears splash on to his face. The last thing he hear was Cornelia choke back a cry.

"You Stupid Stupid man!"


	30. Chapter 30 Gin or Gin?

It was dark, _well nothing new there_ Jacks consciousness thought. He had no sense of movement, yet he could feel no floor beneath his feet, just blackness. It was as though he was in the middle of a great black soundproof box and yet…

Yet something was different, he couldn't tell what he just knew.

_Hello?_ He opened his mouth, yet no sound came out, but his ears heard his own voice echo back. No response. He tried again.

_HELLO?!_

Ah he remembered sound needed air. In this nothing place there was no air. Why would he need it after all he was dead. He'd not needed it before.

He sat, or rather it felt like he sat, there was nothing to sit on yet he was clearly sitting down.

He swung his legs like a 5 year old waiting for something to happen. He slumped down, bored, waiting.

_Could do with some air,_ he thought.

A delicate warm breeze flushed past his face bringing with it the delicate smell of hibiscus. He tried again

_Hello? Any one/thing/entity whatever there?_ If he covered all the bases then he couldn't offend the afterlife, if that what this was.

On the edge of his hearing he could hear a gentle susurration of sound. Despite straining his ears he couldn't make it out.

~~oOo~~

As his body lay on the floor, Cornelia slowly removed the knife. He finally looked peaceful, gentle, but thin and ravaged. But the drug had still not taken away the handsome face and sparkling eyes which stared into nothingness. She placed a pillow under his head taking a moment to stroke his forehead. Yes he was finally peaceful and unfortunately dead.

_~~oOo~~_

_Still here._ He called out to the whispering.

_Can I at least have something to stand on_, _its a little disorienting_

Under his bare feet he felt the softness of sand, it made a soft crunching noise as he swung his legs back and forwards. He felt the hardness of a wooden chair underneath his backside. And the subsequent cold shock as he realised he was naked. A pale light ebbed and flowed around his feet, like a gentle morning tide.

_Oh Green sand, not seen that in a long time. _There was no reply only whispers at the edge of his hearing.

_~~oOo~~_

She removed a blanket from the bed, and pinned it to where the door would have been. She'd pay the old lady to replace it when she left. She prodded Jack with the toe of her boot.

"Still dead then?" she asked not expecting a reply. The simple action of the prod stirred the air around him, she could see it swirling, spinning and tumbling in on itself. Electric blue motes collided with each other, dancing around themselves as they were released from him. From within this dancing whirl, a tinkling laugh could be heard.

The laughter increased, the swirling lights grew more intense before forming in to a solid person. Slowly the lights dissipated leaving a tall, flame haired woman standing naked in front of Cornelia.

Her eyes drew you to her. They were the deepest emerald green. Those eyes smiled various smiles. A knowing smile, a lovers smile, a tumbling hectic isn't this great smile and a sad sorrowful smile all rolled in to one. He skin was pale, her full lips a deep burgundy red. Freckles danced across her nose. The woman was curvy, not quite an hourglass figure but almost. She stood there completely at ease being naked. As she smiled, Cornelia shot backwards scrambling to get out of the way; eventually she was backed against the wall.

"You are not takeing me back!" she cried out

The woman ran her tongue round her teeth before replying

"Oh it is you. I thought I knew you. Ah, the fangs are out aren't they? Why would I want to take you back? You're doing wonderfully as you are. Tame, like we made you." The woman closed her eyes. Then reopened them, Cornelia watched her run her tongue around her mouth again.

"Better?" She smiled again, this time the fangs had gone.

Cornelia again nodded.

"Are you really…?" she left the words unsaid

"Yes, but don't tell anyone. Especially him" the woman nodded towards Jack. "I would have thought you would know that, after all you are one of us. He thinks I have some deep dark frightening secret. He'd be terribly disappointed if he found out."

The woman wrapped her arms around herself

"It's bloody cold in here. May I borrow your coat a moment?"

Cornelia shrugged off the jacket and passed it over.

"Thank you, So you're Cornelia now" That was more of a statement than question.

"Congratulations. Although really did it have to be Hart out of all the men on this world? She's the one then?"

"It's a girl? How do you know? She's the what? Who exactly are you? How do you know me?"

"So many questions my girl. Sorry, I'm Lady Phire Velon, I'm just the Secretary. He ordered me here because of my special talents. God knows what they were. Pleasures all mine. Don't suppose there's a drink around or even some food? I could eat something, anything, even sunny Jim down there if I had to."

Glad of the distraction Cornelia bustled around the room. She rifled through his bags, finally coming trumps with a packet of crackers and a bottle of Gin.

"Thank the gods!" Phire fell on them ravenously.

Cornelia sent a message to Lord Velon

"PHIRE FOUND, AWAITING INSTRUCTIONS"

Phire smiled a tipsy smile and waved the bottle of gin around, "I have certain things to do here, and when they are done, I'm going to do what I want to do. I've always wanted to visit the birthplace. Mingle and pretend to be normal, you know? To see this place on the cusp of its change live – in a manner of speaking- a little" She paused remembering herself and who she was talking to. "Sorry forgot myself there. Were you ever normal?"

Cornelia smiled back, choosing to the ignore the question, "I'd get some clothes on first, with your body you've never be able to be normal here"

~~~oOo~~~

Through the blossoming light a shadow could be seen making its way over. Jack eyed it wearily.

"Boy?" it called. The voice pulled at Jack's heart.

"Da?"

He felt the rough hands ruffle his hair as his father had done before the attack had killed him and taken Grey.

"Hello son"

"What are those whispers Da?"

"They're future echoes of your time here, and of the ones that are to come. They will be here to greet you each time, until the final time." His father looked closely at him, something from deep within Jacks soul looked back and smiled. His father nodded in acknowledgement of the thing smiling from within Jack.

"Hide the key Jack, Try the fey. This is important Jack. You need…"

"I need to know when I'm going to stop going back, I can't keep doing this. It hurts too much. The darkness frigh…" his father cut in. "It's not the dark on the outside you need to be wary of it's the one in your head you need to control. It's not your time yet, you have to go back" he told him

"But Da…I have questions."

"No. It's time to go. Just remember to always see what is there." His father's voice faded as it spoke, the image in front of Jack wavered and disappeared

"But DAAA!" Jack cried as the light increased and life wrapped its insistent hand around his heart and dragged him roughshod back into the body lying at the foot of the bed in the tiny dingy house in Cardiff.

~~~oOo~~~

He gasped for air greedily; his back arched painfully raising him off the floor, before thumping him back down to the patterned carpet. The two women sat on the bed looked down at him, before laughing together like school girls "Phire stopped mid laugh "Hey! I've just thought It's not often you get to kill someone on his own orders." she laughed again as Jack groaned his way back to life.

He stared up at them both. It took him a moment to gauge where he was he sat up and looked at them both then back at Cornelia.

"You're dead… I know you were dead. A broken neck and concrete through your skull pretty much makes you dead. I know I've tried it"

"Apparently I have too much to do to be dead long. I was given a gift or two and here I am"

"Oh… So what now?" he asked.

Phire looked at him and smiled.

"Welcome to the rest of your life Jack, try not to blow it too much"

Jack smiled back and for a moment she thought she saw a darkness flit across his face and a stich start to form across his mouth. She looked closer at him, then at Cornelia, No she hadn't seen anything.

From deep within a dark corner of Jacks protected place the last of the sightless settled in for a long wait; they had waited millennia for him to be sent to be with the last of the watchers, so it would wait for him to crack, his tyranny was already foretold.

Cornelia reached down with a dirty cup filled with gin and offered it to him,

"Have a hair of the dog yet to bite you." she offered. "She's eaten all the crackers so it's Gin, Gin or let see… "she stopped the sentence as another message flashed into her retina

WHERE ARE RUATHEN AND HART, THEY WERE SUPPOSED TO BE HERE BY NOW. NEXT CONTRACT AVAILABLE TO FIND THEM AND RETURN THEM TO HOLDING. TAKE IT AT ANY PRICE YOU WANT "

"…Gin"

End…ish…

* * *

so that's the end..ish for the moment

Thank you to Starkyak, Buddieswithbillis, milenia wings of valmar and also sashx for reviewing inthe past, its helped me get to the end of this and start part two and part three of this series.

Please let me know what you think of the thing as a whole

A

x


	31. The Sightless - Chapter 1 taster

Authors note: This is just a small taster of what is to come...

Please let me know what you think... Remember Reviews help feed the pages

A

* * *

They thought that they were the only people to see it come down as they were hundreds of miles from civilisation; nothing but sand between the compound and the rest of the world. The sonic boom shook everything; sand dunes became flattened, remnants of old civilisations were flung into the sky as the thing crashed, burying itself into the desert. The sand it had flung up in the crash rained back down as gravity retook a hold and covered the majority of it. Only a mound of a strange shape was left visible.

That was until those from the compound went out in the direction the noise came from. They dragged tools and barrows; machines not known yet to the rest of the world and strange things that clicked and beeped when swung over the ground.

They found the mound and excavated. The dirty silver of the thing frightened the men, and excited the scientists, for that was what was posted at the compound. The compound was a place where understanding was supposed to be the mainstay of their profession; until their discovery under the mound of sand changed it all.

They brutally entered the crashed space ship, and ripped out what they could carry. Then they found the visual records. Their reports back to base excited their masters and new orders came back. London wanted what this ship had shown was possible

~~oOo~~

Bethlem Asylum that is what it felt like here, that decaying, insane place. He'd been once, visiting one of the other agents. They had preferred the madness of that place rather than going to Holding. What did it matter, they were both a type of prison; you just got a better type of conversation at Belthem.

How did he get here and why was he here. Currently he couldn't remember. They thought he was a spy of some sort that much he knew. All he could think about was here and now, and how to get out.

As he was being dragged down the long filthy corridor to his cell he scanned the long corridors. Dim light came from somewhere above them. The stench of rotten flesh mingled with the smell of human waste. He could hear the cries of the damned cutting through thoughts. He realised he was joining in the cry. He hurt, Gods above how he hurt. He thought his jaw may have been broken, but his own rapid healing was dealing with that, painfully. He'd come to realise he would always hurt when he healed. He fought against the pull, but the guards were twice his size and strength. He twisted and pulled against them trying to escape the clawing clutches of the guards. He felt a hand slip down his arm and turned his head to bite, only to receive a brutal blow to the side of his head. He felt the grip lessen momentarily and used it to his advantage. Their grip gave way and he slipped down, he twisted as he fell so he was able to race back up the corridor to any-where but here.

His feet slipped on the reason for the smell, propelling him forward into the pungent smells of the cells run offs. He managed to regain his footing, taking off into the corridor; the whining cries became shouts of encouragement as he fled. He glanced behind him, the guards were ambling towards him as though out for a leisurely stroll, occasionally backhanding the outstretched hands of the occupants of the cells. He turned a corner slamming into a closed door. He couldn't remember being dragged through the door originally. He fumbled with the handle and eventually wrenched the door open and slipped through, slamming it behind him on the faces of the two guards. He was in a darkened room; a single small window at the end of the room illuminated a desk. Behind the desk was a man; with his back to the door as he looked at the charts on the wall behind the desk. From the rear Jack could tell that this uniform was immaculate and well cut. A brooding muddy grey green only highlighted by the epaulets which bore the rank of General. The tip of the cane, in his right hand was headed with a skull which gleamed in the dull light. He toyed with it idly as he spoke. His voice was smooth, well spoken, and soft. The accent impossible to place, yet somewhere in Jacks memory he could remember the voice.

"Welcome Jack, I wondered when you would find your way back to me. They all do, eventually; all of their own free will, each wanting to give up all their little secrets, but yours is so much bigger than all of their little secrets isn't it?"

"Who are you?" Jack kept his back to the wall, searching for a way out of the room.

"Your friend and constant companion Jack, I am the silent voice in the back of your head. I am the gatherer of your secrets Jack. You know my kind well"

Jack shook his head. "I know of no one like you. Let me out of here."

The man turned and slammed the cane down on the desk making him jump, "Until you give up each and every one of your secrets you belong here. You, my Captain, are ours"

Jack recognised the figure of Flick Ruathan. A man who had figured so much in his recent past, a man who shouldn't be here, but locked up tight in the 51st century's high security prison otherwise known as Holding. Jack's snarl was stopped midway as when Flick spoke a transformation came across him. Jack remembered a woman trying to scream in pain as thick black stiches made their way across her eyes and mouth.

"You know me Jack, Friends to the end weren't we. Where is it? Where did you hide it?" The last question was snarled through an almost closed mouth, thick stiches pulling it awkwardly closed.

"Sightless" Jack hissed, much to the enjoyment of the creature that now stood in front of him. Words entered his mind, without ever meeting his ears

"You are to be ours now, willingly or…" The words stopped as a heavy knock was heard against the oak door before it was opened. The two guards stood there waiting. In the moment that it took Jack to look from the sightless to the guards and back, the thing had returned to back to Flick.

"Take him boys, and let the devil out, you know how it likes to play with the mind"

~~oOo~~

Jack was dragged bodily back through the stinking mess he'd previously escaped from and thrown into another room. The light in here was intense, he guarded his eyes until they became used to the light. In the centre of the room was a chair. A simple high backed wooden chair, from its wooden arms dangled two leather straps. The seat was padded, and extending from the bottom crossbar was a set of what could only be classes as wooden restraints for the feet. Jack had seen this chair before, it had been used across the ages to calm people, but it was missing the head restraint, the blinding box where they encased the head in linen, so no sound, and no light could enter and cause further disturbance to the mind. He looked around the room and noticed a wooden table. A cloth covered whatever was on the table hiding everything from view. Jack was forced into the chair, his chest, stomach and arms bound by thick leather straps. His feet placed into the wooden restraints; each strap tightened until he could only move his head. He felt the strong hands of the guard against his temples forcing his head straight. Another strap was placed around his head, pulling it back against the headrest. A gag was placed into his mouth, stifling his cries and shouts. It was then they placed a box over his head. A box was the wrong word for it… there was only half a lid, towards the front of the box he could feel a draft gently blowing on his forehead and the top of his head. The inside of the box was stuffed with linen, trying to make it as dark and as silent as possible. He could just see at the top of his vision a slight light. Within the confines of the linen he could smell a sweet smell, he started feeling dizzy with each inhalation. His hearing already muted by the linen became disjointed. With each further breath his heart fluttered. Then suddenly the box was taken off. A face appeared in front of him, studying him, looking intensely into his drooping eyes. The man looked to the guard behind and nodded. An excruciating pain came from the top of his head and his forehead; blood ran down into his eyes. Jack passed out unable to take the pain anymore his last thoughts were how the hell did I end up here?


End file.
